Choice
by Wanamaker
Summary: DISCONTINUED AU Raised first by Voldemort and later those of Light, Harry will have to recognize foes from allies, deceptions from truth, and face the destiny he has been avoiding all his life. Possible future slash LVHP TRHP
1. Prologue

_As English is not my first language, please bear with me for any spelling, grammar mistakes, though I do try my best._

**Warning:** This will contain some abuse, rape, violent scenes -acutually for this chapter only; and it will be a slash. So please don't continue of you'll be offended.

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.Rowling and associated parties. I own nothing you'll recognize and am not making any money off this.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing:** Future HP/LV

**_Now, enjoy!_**

**Choice _-_ Prologue:**

Harry sighed as he heard the door slam close. He opened his eyes cautiously, his hands running through his battered and bruised body to check for any new damages. _Damn those traitorous Death Eaters!_ He licked his dry lips, only to taste the salty flavor of blood. His hands reached for the small bowl of water, careful not to spill a single drop.

_At least they were keeping me alive._

Of course, Harry gave them plenty of reasons to. He knew something must be off when Voldemort failed to return at promised time. He should have taken his instruction and taken into hiding then, but he stubbornly decided to wait for three more days.

On the second day the Death Eaters came. Oh yes, he knew every one of them, with Lucius in the lead. He never liked that arrogant Malfoy, even as Voldie showed him his followers through their special link. Although, judging from their near-comically panicked reaction, his presence in the Riddle Manor was well-hidden. By then it was too late to escape, and Harry knew he would not be able to fight all of them alone, however talented he maybe as an eight-year old. He also knew something must be very wrong with Voldie, and he doubted those Death Eaters would keep him alive if his true identity was known.

Harry shivered as he recalled the close call. He'd thrown himself at their feet then, imploring the whereabouts of his "Master." A wry smile crept on his mouth as he imagined how Voldie must react when he heard that; he had told Harry long ago that he'd never be his Master. But, of course, the Death Eaters didn't need to know that. For them, Harry was just another ignorant plaything of their former Lord; probably recently acquired, as none had heard of him before. Just exactly as Harry wanted them to think. It was the only reason he was still alive, although he must admit this plan had its defects, too. He grimaced as he remembered them laughing cruelly and telling him that his Master was not to return. After that, they had kept him as their "pet."

It probably gave those bastards a twisted sense of self-worth and pride; having been able to touch what was their Master's. Harry clutched his fists in humiliation and anger. How dare they kiss him, touch him, and thrust into him? The first few times were especially hard; as despite what he wanted them to believe, he had never done this before. Now he was much "improved;" his body so trained that he reacted automatically to those filthy pigs to Harry's utter disgust. Of course, the pain was still there, and those Death Eaters never refrained from further physical violence. Harry shuddered at the memories and narrowed his eyes; no matter, he _would_ make them pay, every single one of them.

Thus, a thin, small boy fell asleep in his dirty rags, his face grim and full of determination, while the world outside the cold manor rejoiced. Witches and wizards from all over Britain celebrated the fall of Voldemort, the terror that haunted them for nearly twenty years. The war was not yet completely over; but, for the first time, people of the light knew victory was near.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1: Unexpected Rescue

**Choice – Chapter I: Unexpected Rescue:**

Harry woke up to hurried steps, panicked screams, and the crash of bodies. Dully he wondered what was going on when the door to his room was blasted open. A tall man with midnight black hair sprung inside, his face stony and his black eyes piercing. When they locked into Harry's bright green ones, however, the man nearly jumped and gasped, "Oh Merlin."

He must be one of the Aurors, Harry decided. He knew he would have to play along his role to survive; they must never find out who he really was. He let his own eyes widen with supposed fear and started shaking visibly. "Don't...please don't hurt me..." he pleaded before he forced himself into the welcoming darkness.

* * *

When he came to, Harry found himself in a small, hard bed. It was nothing compared to the beds of Riddle Manor. But after sleeping on the cold floor for so long, he found that anything would suffice.

Harry moved his head around testingly, and was surprised to find his long- lost glasses beside his bed, whole and good as new. He put them on and realized he must be in a hospital of some sort. A few paces away from his bed, he could see a stout woman whispering sharply to the black-haired man he first saw, a gray-haired man with soft features, and an old man with half-moon glasses and long, white hair and beards. Dumbledore! Harry's stomach tightened immediately, and he gave a small gasp before he could stop himself. Inwardly cursing Voldie for implanting in him such distrust for that old man, he turned to find four pairs of eyes focused on him.

_Alright, you can do this._ He proceeded to give them his best performance. He gazed around frantically, eyes wild with fear, "Where am I? Where is Master?"

The black-haired man made a sound and looked away abruptly, the grey-haired put a hand on his shoulder, "Sirius." Harry secretly wondered at his drastic reaction when Dumbledore spoke, "How are you feeling child? And you are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hogwarts?" Harry repeated in what he hoped would be a dumbstruck tone, "Where is Master?"

"Are you referring to the Death Eaters? Or Voldemort?" the old man's face was grave.

Harry furrowed his brows, "Master is Master; he never lets me call him by that V-name."

"It's Voldemort then? The Death Eaters confessed as much..." Dumbledore mused aloud, his blue eyes fixed on Harry. Harry had to try his best to not gulp; he did not like that old man or his penetrating gaze. Suddenly he was very grateful that Voldie had insisted that he be able to shield his inner thoughts well, and he presented what Dumbledore hoped to see on the surface.

Evidently it was good enough for that old man, for he spoke again, softly, "Child, tell us your name."

"I'm the pet...or the kitten sometimes," Harry frowned, smiling inwardly at the horror-struck faces of the adults, "But I suppose Master called me 'Harry' once...he doesn't like that name, though."

Somehow their eyes lit up at the mention of his true name, and man who was called Sirius blurted out, "Harry? Harry Potter?" He turned to the grey- haired man besides him, "I told you Remus! I told you he's not dead. And see how he looks exactly like James! Nearly gave me a heart attack when I first saw him..."

Dumbledore waved his hand for silence, for Harry was looking positively bewildered. When he spoke again his voice was sad, "Harry, do you remember who your parents were?"

"Parents? I have parents? I've been with Master as long as I could remember..." _Okay, that was not a lie. _

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the adults, "There will be ways to check his parentage; a Birth Spell should do." The other three nodded, and Dumbledore turned to face Harry again, "Now, Harry, it will be a simple spell, and you should feel nothing but warmth. Please don't move as I cast it." Saying so, he flipped his wand and whispered, "_Coarguo Genus_." (1)

Harry flinched slightly as a warm, white light engulfed him. After its glow was gone, a parchment fell out of nowhere and was picked up by Dumbledore. "Ah..." his blue eyes seemed to twinkle, and he looked less grave.

Sirius snatched the parchment from the old man, and his face filled with joy. "Oh, Harry!" he yelled and gave him a tight hug, which confused Harry to no end. He struggled against the older man and pleaded, "Please don't punish me! I'm sorry..." A perfect image of a victim of abuse. Sirius broke away the embrace a little, with his arms still around the little boy, his full of hurt, "But Harry, I'll never hurt you."

Harry was still stiff in the man's arms; however he did not voice further protest. He hung his head in resignation and seemed prepared to accept whatever was to come. When no blows came, he raised his head a little questioningly. Yes, I'm good, he thought to himself, and decided to humor the adults a little more. "Oh..." he said in sudden realization. And, to Sirius and everybody else's horror, Harry began to loosen the buttons of his pajama.

With shaking hands, Sirius stopped Harry, "Harry? What are you doing?" Harry looked up, perplexed, "Don't you want to play with me?"

"No! Harry...I, I don't want anything from you...Listen, I'm your godfather."

"Godfather?" _Oh this was better than he expected._

Dumbledore walked up, "Sirius, let him rest for now. It's too much information." Reluctantly Sirius let go; the stout woman walked up with an at-least- someone-has-some-sense look. She stood between Harry and the others protectively and gently helped Harry drink down some potion. Harry's eye- lids became heavy the moment he swallowed, and he slipped into the blissful embrace of sleep.

* * *

When he woke up again, Harry was pleased to find that most of the pain was gone. Feeling better than he had in days, he let out a satisfied little sigh. That was when he realized that he was not alone. The two men...Sirius and Remus were sitting beside his bed and were now exchanging glances as they realized that he'd woken up.

Finally Remus spoke, "H-Harry, this is going to be hard...and I don't expect you to trust us immediately...but please listen to what we have to say."

Harry nodded numbly; it was not like he had any other choice.

Remus gave him a small smile, "Right...We, er, were your parents' best friends. Sirius here is your godfather, as he already told you. Umm...Harry, your 'Master' is vanquished by Professor Dumbledore two weeks ago. But, he, er, is not really your master."

The boy stared at him wide-eyed, "M-Master is gone? And of course he's my Master..."

Remus spoke again, "You see, Harry, Voldemort came to your home when you were one and killed your parents. He then kidnapped you and kept you as-at Riddle Manor."

This was not breaking news for Harry; there was no secret between him and Voldie, but he made sure he looked dumbstruck. He stared at the two men stupidly, then he whispered, "Master killed my parents? He, he killed my parents?"

Remus nodded sadly, "Yes, Harry...now that you are freed, we, we'd like you to live with us; we are your parents' best friends, after all."

"Live with you..?"

Both adults nodded frantically, and Sirius spoke, "Yes, Harry...I haven't been the best godfather, but I promise from now on I won't let anyone hurt you again. Come live with us."

"I...I don't know what to say....I think I need time to think about this, my parents, everything..." Harry almost looked he was sorry.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by Remus, "He's right; he needs time. He already reacted exceptionally to all the news."

Sirius nodded, and he turned to Harry, "Well, we'll just be outside then...if you need anything, just tell Madam Promfrey."

Harry mused as he heard their steps disappear. Well, if Voldemort really was vanquished like they said, then he really did not have anywhere else to go. This Sirius and Remus seemed really to care about him, and they looked like they were important members of the Light; living with them could bring certain advantages. But, how could Voldie be...Harry knew his.._.friend_; surely Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, but Harry doubted he'd be able to defeat Voldemort just like that. He massaged his nose-bridge and sighed; he would have to ask later when it would not rouse suspicion. As Harry turned on his back, his mind was made up. He smiled; Sirius and Remus would be satisfied with his response.

* * *

_(1) It's supposed to mean "crystallize body," but as my knowledge of Latin is really quite pathetic, I'd be delighted if anyone'd correct me if the grammar is not quite correct._


	3. Chapter 2: Birthday

**Choice – Chapter 2: Birthday**

"Good morning," Harry called as he walked down the stairs of Black Manor.

"Good morning," Sirius and Remus chorused in reply. It had been four months since Harry first arrived with them, and he had made impressive progress. The child no longer tensed after physical contact, and they could swore that he almost laughed with them at times – yes, laugh, not the sheepish grin he was accustomed to give.

Harry gave them a small smile as he sat down at the breakfast table; he was so glad that he could finally loosen up some more. Pretending to flinch at every sound and squeak at all attempts of conversation was not exactly the most fun thing to do – especially if you had to do that for months. Yet Harry had the reputation of an abused plaything to keep; he couldn't very well be all cheerful and outgoing over night. Although, Harry did notice that the memories of the Death Eaters did upset him to a point where some of the fidgeting and nightmares were not faked. He gnashed his teeth; it seemed that they had affected him more seriously than he had formerly expected.

"Harry?" Sirius called, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The little boy raised his head expectantly.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, and Sirius continued, "Well, we thought we could give you a surprise..." Saying so, he clapped his hands and an enormous cake appeared on the table. It was almost as high as Harry himself and was constantly changing colors. Fireworks flew from the nine candles on top of it.

Harry felt his mouth fell open, "Wow..." He must admit he felt just as excited at the notion as any other nine-year old. It was his first cake, after all, and it was a rather cool one at that. He had no idea that Sirius and Remus actually remembered and made such preparations for his birthday. His eyes watered despite himself. Looking up, he saw the two staring at him anxiously. He gave them a true smile and said, "I, I like it. It means a lot to me, truly..." Getting up from his seat, he gave each a tight hug that surprised even himself.

"I'm glad you like it," Remus smiled, too, "We've also got you some presents." He took out a wrapped box and handed it to the child; Harry's eyes widened. With almost trembling hands, he opened the wrapper and found out it contained two books, _Elementary Curses and Hexes and How to Counter them_ and _Hogwarts, A History_. Remus obviously had noticed Harry's evident passion for reading. Harry smiled again, "Thanks you, Remus."

Turning, he realized that Sirius had also handed him a gift and proceeded to open it. It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously, only to find out that it was full of photographs. Smiling faces of Sirius, Remus, a witch with amber hair and green eyes not unlike Harry's, and a man with messy black hair were everywhere. With a jump of heart he realized they were his parents; he even found a picture of himself, a mere baby by then. Harry stared at the pictures, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. Finally, he raised his head – and launched himself into a very surprised Sirius. _Okay so maybe he was supposed to be avoiding physical contact, but heck to pretense! _

* * *

Harry retreated to his room late at night that day; Sirius and Remus had kept him up partying. He was undoubtedly tired, yet somehow sleep evaded him. 

Sighing, he opened his window to let in some cool summer night's air. The sky was quite clear, and moonlight spilt over the floor of his bedroom. Harry took out the little album again, and the happy faces of his parents smiled back at him. He felt a pang of emotion he couldn't quite grasp. Before, Voldemort had talked to him about his parents, never denying the fact he killed them. It was war, and it was necessary. Harry had agreed with his reasoning then; his parents were a distant past that he could hardly remember anyway. But the album had changed everything; he saw now his parents' laughter, their love for each other, and possibly their love for him. They had never been so – real before. For the first time in many years, he wondered what it would be like if they had lived; they might have even loved him...no, he knew they did love him. Yet Harry still could not feel real mourning; they were still people of the past, their love and care a possibility that never occurred.

Dimly he thought he ought to be angry with Voldemort. Voldemort...Harry's thoughts flew as he thought of the Dark Lord. He groaned as he realized that all hopes for going to sleep were truly gone now.

The sudden flips of wings startled him, and he looked up to see a falcon land on his desk. It dropped a small parcel and flew out of the window before he could respond. Harry eyed the parcel warily, before picking it up very carefully. However, he nearly dropped it in surprise when he saw the elegant handwriting on it. He set to open it immediately, all thoughts of prudence gone. Out of it fell a small silver serpent ring, a fluid and silvery cloak, and a small note. Harry knew the cloak was an invisible cloak, and he put it aside carefully; it would come in handy later. The ring though, was much more interesting. The little serpent's eyes were glittering, one emerald green one ruby red. Harry could sense magic interweaved in it, yet he could not figure out what exactly did it do. He detected no animosity, though; not that he would expect the sender to hurt him, for him already had a good of idea of who it might be. He slipped the ring onto his finger; it fit perfectly. The silver was cool and comforting, and ironically Harry found himself in an opposite position than he was in earlier: he was not on the verge of sleep when he so wished to stay awake.

However, he shook himself alert again; it was not yet time for such luxury, there was a note to read, certain things to straighten out, and peace of mind to be found. Harry reached for the note; it was short and simple:

_Happy Birthday, my little one._

There was no signature, yet Harry knew it was from Voldemort; he would always recognize the handwriting. He frowned; he was somewhat relieved that whatever happened to the older man, he was at least well enough to send Harry a present. Yet there was no explanation whatsoever as to what really happened, or even about the gifts themselves. For all he knew, the presents might have been prepared before his fall, which was very likely since the Dark Lord was a busy man. But really...by owl-er-eagle post? He thought the Dark Lord should be employing more secure and less elementary method than that. Yet who knew what nasty spells Voldemort placed on the post should anyone but Harry open it?

Thus, overall, the note told Harry nothing about the Dark Lord's prescent state.Yet in his heart Harry just knew the other man was still alive, perhaps because of their connection through the scar. Harry shifted his position to sit more comfortably. He supposed now that he knew Voldemort was not fully vanquished, he ought to do something. Voldemort, though, had never really asked for his allegiance. So technically, Harry was not bound to help him. But, Harry did like that man. Oh he certainly did not agree with some of the Dark Lord's ideals. But he did have strong affections for his Voldie. Harry smiled despite himself; the look on the older man's face whenever he used that insolent nickname was always priceless. He strongly suspected that he was the only one to have done so and yet lived to tell the tale – er, not that he could tell anyone about it.

Harry's smile soon faded as he consideredyet another riddle. At times like this he always wondered why he was not a full-hearted supporter of Voldie's policies. He was sure Voldemort could have converted him if he wanted to. Harry was placed under his influence every since he was a small child, after all; and the Dark Lord could be quite – persuasive at times. Yet Sirius and Remus were actually more adamant at trying to convey their beliefs to Harry. Although, he supposed most people would consider growing up with a Dark Lord a strong enough influence. Harry himself was not quite sure why he turned out like he did. For all he knew, he should be running around torturing Muggles, being a die-hard follower of You-Know-Who... No, never a follower. Or rather, never a servant. Voldemort had made sure of that. Harry knewhow muchVoldemortthought ofthe Death Eaters, some of whom very powerful wizards. He also knew of Voldie's intolerance to anything that challenged his power. Thus it always puzzled him as to why the Dark Lord cared to treat him, a powerless child, as his equal. Harry always thought himself as rather weak although Voldemort promised otherwise. True, he was clever for his age and knew quite some advanced magic, but that was due tothe exellent lessons he received and his power was in no way spectacular. Besides, even if he had immense power, wouldn't it be better for the Dark Lord if he were trained to obey the other's commands without doubt and never pose any opposition? At the thought of his lessons Harry frowned slightly;something seemed to be out of place yet he could quite grasp it. It was strange that the Dark Lord found all the time to instruct him...or was it a Death Eater... Magic flared, unseen to Harry; and his expression relaxed as he dropped the line of thought. For of course whom taught him the lessons was of little importance; he had more pressing things to think about.

Harry sighed again; Voldemort had always managed to confuse him to no end. He would have loved to think that for once the ambitious Dark Lord was being nice to him simply for the sake of being nice to him, that the Dark Lord cared – or ever loved him. Yet he knew the chances were slim, and it wouldn't do to allow himself to dwell on such fantasies. He massaged his temples; the night was getting ripe, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep coherent thoughts. He decided he'd just stay with Sirius and Remus for now (not that he had anywhere else to go), what could a nine-year old do for a Dark Lord, after all? But if fate would chance that their paths cross again...Harry closed his eyes painfully as he thought of Sirius and others; he knew he would help Voldie then, though he would try his best to keep his own principles.

With that settled, Harry collapsed in his bed happily, finally letting sleep claim him. Not noticing the little serpent on his finger closed its eyes just as he closed his own.

* * *

_A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed it, all comments are welcome!_


	4. Chapter 3: Hogwarts

**Choice – Chapter 3: Hogwarts**

"Ahhh...Sirius, get off me!" Harry called, desperate to break away from a bone-aching hug, "Honestly, you'd think I'm going into wild instead of a school!"

"Are you sure you'll be alright Harry? I'm so sorry that auror business came up..." Sirius was still watching him with worried eyes.

"I'll be fine; it's peace-time now. And who'd waste such efforts in harming a small nobody like me?"

"Besides, I'm going with him, Padfoot," Remus added smugly.

Sirius frowned, "Which is exactly the reason I'm more worried,"

Remus simply smirked, "If I remember correctly, the last time_ you_ went out with Harry..."

Harry rolled his eyes; honestly, how old were they? He cleared his throat, "Come on, Remus. We need to get going." With one last reassurance that they would stay in one piece throught the trip, Remus and Harry flooed away.

Harry blinked, it seemed just like yesterday when he first came to Sirius and Remus; now, three years had passed and he was standing on Platform 93/4 waving goodbyes to his guardian. He felt, well, empty. He had grown attached to his parents' best friends after all, although they never got to really understand him. No one ever understood him like Vol...No! he did _not _want to think of that man. Living with Sirius and Remus had further convinced him that Voldemort's methods were wrong, even if he hated to admit that he had let the Light influence him. He never heard from the Dark Lord again besides the present for his ninth birthday, and it left him half worried half relieved. Harry didn't want to have to face Voldemort so soon because their next meeting would definitely also be the time that he would have to choose. Damn that stupid Dark Lord; why couldn't he just brainwashed him when he was young? Being totally evil would at least spare him such agonizing internal turmoil...

"P-Pardon?" Harry was jerked out of his thoughts. He raised his head to find a bushy haired girl staring at him. Two adults, probably her parents, were standing behind her uncomfortably. Realization dawned on him, "First year?"

She nodded, "I saw your owl so I figured you're a wizard...well, I was wondering if you could show me how to get to the train?"

Harry nodded in understanding, "I'm a first year, too. And I would have never found out the way if my guardians weren't from Hogwarts themselves. Here, just walk through that barrier and you'll get the the train, you can run a little if you're nervous."

A while later found them seated comfortably in an empty compartment, chatting. The girl had told Harry that her name was Hermione Ganger, and immediately launched into talking about all the spell books she'd read so far. Harry smiled inwardly as he listened and occasionally commented; this had gone quite well as far as he was concerned. He hadn't had much experience dealing with people his own age (Voldemort, er, did not have a high tolerance for children; and while at Sirius', he had to pretend to be an abused, mentally unstable shy thing for a long time), and was worried that he might find making friends awkward. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed delighted that Harry had actually read the books, too. And they were midway in a discussion about Hogwarts' history when the compartment door slid open again.

A plump boy with light brown hair stuck in his head, "Sorry to interrupt...but have you all seen a toad?"

Harry and Hermione shook their heads in union; the boy sighed and was about to leave when Harry called, "Hey, why don't you stay here and chat for a while? I'm sure it'll show up when you least expect it. By the way, I'm Harry potter and this is Hermione Ganger."

The brown-haired boy smiled, "Harry Potter? I think I've heard of my gran mention you once...don't you live with that famous Auror Sirius Black? I'm Neville Longbottom, glad to meet you." He sat down beside Harry, grinning a little nervously.

Harry nodded in confirmation, "Well, Sirius is not really _that_ good, you know."

"Not that good? He's legendary! I wish I could be like him...my parents were both Aurors, and gran really wants me to be a good one, too." Neville sighed. Harry sensed it was a sensitive subject for Neville. Hermione must did, too, for she spoke again in an effort to steer the conversation away from the topic, "Well, what house do you think you'd be in? I suppose Gryffindor must be very good, Dumbledore was in it after all... but I think I'm more likely to end up in Ravenclaw, which is nice, too."

Neville moved uncomfortably, "Well, I would love to be in Gryffindor; gran would be so proud...but I'll probably just end up in Hufflepuff anyway."

Hermione winced at the distress evident in the boy's voice, "You never know, um,Harry, how about you?"

Harry blinked, him? Three years ago he'd be sure to answer Slytherin; not to please Voldemort, but he knew his biggest desire then was to prove that he deserved to be treated as an equal. But now...he barely even think of his future anymore. Secretly he knew he was afraid to; he absorbed himself in books, occupied his mind with learning so that he would not have to think about the future, the choice he would have to make. He had been preparing himself all these years, yet for what he could not tell. So Hufflepuff was really a goner, since he himself didn't know where his loyalty lay; Gryffindor would be unlikely, too, despite what Sirius might hope. Ravenclaw would be all too suitable according to his outward appearance. Yet he knew his passion for books was only a mask, a guise of something else...which led him back to Slytherin. But no, Harry frowned, he must _not_ end up in that house. Dumbledore would be sure to distrust him if he were to be a Slytherin (not that he trusted he much now, but at least Harry would not provide further suspicion; although he was unsure of his future path, instinct told him that either way he would need that old man's trust)...and, and he'll have to face the children of Death Eaters...

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked up to find a very worried looking Hermione and Neville. Sighing, he realized he was breathing rather shallowly, and that his hands were covered with sweat. "Right, I'm fine," he muttered, "I just, thought of something...and you were saying?"

Hermione didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the matter, "We were asking you what house you think you'd be in, and you just sort of went rigid and all that."

Harry cringed inwardly but gave his friends a small smile, "I just got distracted, that's all. Er, right, the house thing...well, I really hope I'd end up in Ravenclaw. I'm fine really as long as I'm not in Slytherin, but I doubt the other two houses would suit me well."

His friends gave him knowing nods, and Neville said, "Yeah, I heard all Slytherins are evil." Harry almost snapped back at the comment, but decided not too. His heart suddenly felt more heavy, though, as he realized that he wouldn't be able to even keep the new-found friendships if he really ended up in Slytherin. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure...I mean, all the houses will have good or unpleasant people," he countered in what he hoped to be a neutral, mild tone.

Hermione shrugged, "I suppose so...but Harry, I wouldn't worry if I were you. You know the first year's books by heart! With your brain, where else would you be but Ravenclaw?"

Harry smiled weakly, and the three proceeded to eating the sweets they bought earlier. Hermione found wizarding candies delightful - that was, until she picked up a pepper-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The witch had gone very red in the face then and almost spat out the bean. They were still laughing and teasing when the train slowed down, and Harry's nervousness returned.

He suppose he almost dream-walked alone the way, and paid no attention to other's sorting at all, until a small outburst between a redhead and a pale blonde boy caught his attention - which he immediately regretting doing so. The blonde boy was almost a exact replica of Lucius Malfoy; Harry cursed as he felt himself go dizzy again. He must not be in Slytherin, already he could see the resemblance of many Death Eaters in the children around him. He exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure, when he realized Neville's name was being called. Harry was just in time to give him an encouraging nod, but the poor boy still managed to fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville and finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped despite weird looks thrown his way; he was truly happy for Neville, as he and his family seemed to value that particular house highly. But all too soon he was consumed in his own worries again, and he later considered it miraculous that he actually heard his name being called.

Stepping forward, he had a glance of the Great Hall before the hat was set over his eyes. He saw that Hermione had been sorted to Ravenclaw and prayed even harder that he'd end up in that house, too. "H-hello?" he called tentatively to the darkness.

"Ah..." said a small voice in his ear, "A polite young man, eh? Let's see where shall I put you!

"Not Hufflepuff? You'd be surprised by your loyalty. But you're right, that house does not suit you. No Gryffindor, either; though you have plenty of courage. I see greatness in your path, and Slytherin will no doubt help you...yet you do have a great thirst for knowledge, and you _are_ clever. Hmm, difficult, very difficult..."

"Please not Slytherin," Harry pleaded.

"Not Slytherin? But it will help you, as I see your pursuit for knowledge was merely a guise; you are afraid of your own ambition...Still no? Hmmm...well, if you are sure, better be RAVENCLAW!"

Harry took off the hat and gave out a long breath he was holding. Silence greeted him. The students stared at him for about thirty seconds, before the Ravenclaw table burst into polite applause.

Shakily, Harry took a seat besides Hermione, who was beaming widely at him. "I told you, Harry!"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, aware of some rather sullen glances other students shot his way,"Why were you guys all...silent and all that right after my sorting, though?"

"Dude...it took that bloody hat almost twenty minutes to decide! We weren't sure if it _really_ was over at first," a sandy haired boy on his left answered. What was his name again? Now Harry wished he had paid more attention to the sorting. "Sorry...I felt it was rather long myself, but thought it must've been my imagination," Harry explained, guiltily; he was sure it wouldn't have taken _that _long if he'd let the hat have its way.

Soon the sorting ended and Dumbledore delivered a rather concise speech. The feast had begun. Harry quickly helped himself, the food almost rivaled that of Riddle Manor's. Even Hermione stopped talking about lessons. Terry Boot (Harry had finally got his name), the boy who spoke earlier, engaged Harry in a conversation about Quidditch. They were in a heated discussion about which was the best team when screams were heard around the table. Turning, Harry saw a ghost with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood sitting at his right side. Hermione, who was forced to move over, seemed unable to decide between protesting or screaming.

"The Bloody Baron!" some higher-year squeaked.

"What is he doing here? Isn't he a Slytherin ghost?"

Harry eyed the ghost warily, "Er, Harry Potter at your service?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," the Baron nodded, "So you've finally arrived. It's been a long time since I've seen a kindred spirit such as you."

Harry could see his housemates throwing him curious glances, and bit his lips - so much for not rousing suspicion, "Sir, I don't mean to be rude...but, could we talk another time?"

He was almost expecting the ghost would protest, but the Baron merely eyed the surroundings and nodded in understanding, "Very well." He even sounded...impressed? Shrugging to his friends, Harry saw the ghost reappear at the Slytherin table. Distinctly, Harry had an idea of whom might have been the last "kindred spirit" the Baron referred to...Speaking of which - Harry had felt something, a warm nudge on his scar, ever since he stepped in the Great Hall. It was almost the same sensation when Voldie was well and around, though it was much fainter. But it was not possible...or was it?

Shaking himself free of his troubled thoughts, he casually looked up at the High Table, where the teachers were sitting. When a professor with a turban turned to talk to another with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin; Harry felt yet another wave of reassurance rushing through his scar. He was still pondering the whole unusualness of the situation when his eyes locked with those of the greasy-haired professor's briefly - the teacher did _not_ seem pleased at all to see Harry.

Harry frowned, could that hateful stare really been directed at him? He remembered hearing Sirius warning him of a certain Potion Master who might gave him trouble at Hogwarts due to some age-old problems with his dad. The older man had called him a "greasy-haired git" then, so this must be that...what's his name...

Snape. Harry narrowed his eyes; he had dismissed the name then, but somehow it seemed to struck a chord somewhere. Death Eaters! Harry nearly jumped out of his seat; Snape was a Death Eater! Although, he was one of those who never came to "play" with Harry. Could he really be of the light then? After all, Dumbledore must know of his, er, interesting background. Yet Harry could swore he had seen his face before, not during meetings, as they wore their masks then, but...

_Little Harry curled up in a corner after a particularly hard beating. Before leaving, the Death Eater had purposely upset the small bowl of dirty water. Harry knew he could not last that day then; hunger, thirst, and pain were overwhelming him. Just then, he thought he heard the door slid open, someone had entered - Harry tried to hide away in his panic; no, not more - a bowl of funny smelling liquid was placed before his mouth...a potion? - Harry had swallowed it down then, not caring if it were poisonous, glad to take anything in - a man was talking quietly; something about not being able to heal him outwardly and that rescue was coming...This must be a dream...Still, Harry struggled to open his eyes: cold black eyes with a slight gleam of concern greeted him..._

Harry looked up at Snape again, had that pair of eyes full of hatred really been the same pair that gave Harry so much hope three years ago? His face was filled with determination; he _would_ find out the answer, and he _would_ let his gratitude known, family feud or not (besides, the reasons to hate Snape provided by Sirius sounded pretty stupid and childish anyway). Harry looked up at the Potion Master again and gave him a tiny smile, laughing inwardly as the other threw him a confused glance; oh Snape would not stay hating him for long.


	5. Chapter 4: Settling In

**Choice – Chapter 4: Settling In  
**_Dedicated to Darkmark33LV, thank you for your timely encouraging words that kept me going._

Harry played with his fork absently, hardly noticing Terry's ongoing speech about his classes and Hermione's worried glances. He was nervous. His first day had gone fairly well - so far. As he'd predicted, the classes posed no real challenge for him. Not wishing to draw attention, though, Harry did not answer questions unless they were directed at him. Ravenclaw would earn enough points by answering questions with Hermione there, no need for him to worry. He couldn't help but be a little awed by the young witch. Sure Harry fared quite well in his classes, but that was due to his intensive upbringing. As far as he knew, Hermione grew up with ignorant Muggles, and yet she still managed to seem as if she knew her classes by heart.

He was again grateful of his teachers. _Wait...was it teachers or... _Harry frowned as the spell activated again. When he opened his eyes, all thoughts about his mentors were gone; for _surely_, that was not important. He sighed and shoved some mashed potatoes into his mouth; he supposed he should eat a little. All the other classes had been a breeze; this one was the one he had really been looking forward to, this one was what really mattered: Potions.

* * *

About twenty minutes later found Harry seated anxiously besides Hermione in the cold dungeon, despite Terry's complaints (_"Two genius shouldn't sit together and be partners, what about us ordinary people?"_). And there, Snape swept into the room, his black robe bellowing about him. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry thought the speech was rather intriguing, as Potions had been something of a favorite even before he attended Hogwarts, which was also, unfortunately, his weakest subject as he hadn't had as much training. Hermione was looking desperate, as if she couldn't wait to prove that_ she_ was not a dunderhead. Harry mentally chuckled and nearly jumped when his name was called.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's mouth curled, Potions may not be his best subject, but he was more than adequate; Snape would have to try harder to embarrass him, "A sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, sir."

Snape nodded reluctantly, "Right...Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?""

"In a goat, sir," Harry answered, and before Snape could speak, he added hurriedly as to leave no room for criticism, "More specifically, in the stomach of a goat."

Snape frowned and thought of one last question, "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There isn't any. They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

"I did not ask for another name, Potter. One point from Ravenclaw for your cheek; showing off will not get you far in this class. However, your answer is correct. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Harry winced inwardly as he sat down, stupid, stupid, what possessed him to add the last bit; Snape was just waiting for a chance to take off points! Not that the one point bothered him, it was the fact that he had wanted to impress a professor that troubled him. It was not in his nature to seek attention; and if living with Voldemort taught him anything, it was the Slytherin steathiness. And there was the fact that he had never tried to impress anyone before except the Dark Lord...okay, maybe Sirius and Remus sometimes, but _that _was different.

Harry shook his head, he better pay attention and worry about his little problems later. It turned out that Snape had put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. It was no big quest for Harry and Hermione, and he let her do most of the work as she was still displeased that _she_ didn't get a chance to answer the questions earlier. Harry was just planning on how to approach Snape after class when an explosion was heard. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw that a Hufflepuff boy next to their table, Justin Finch-Fletchley's cauldron had somehow exploded. Without thinking, he shielded Hermione with his own body and clenched his teeth in pain as he felt the potion eating through his robe and burning his arm. Justin, who had been drenched in the potion, was babbling and whimpering as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Turning to a Hufflepuff girl, Susan Bones, who had been Justin's partner, he ordered, "Take him up to the hospital wing."

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?" Snape rounded on Harry. _Just as expected_.

"I'm sorry Professor." Harry said, inhaling sharply, willing himself not to cry out in pain. Snape looked down and seemed to notice, for the first time, that Harry's robes were burned and that his arm was as red as Justin's had been, "But then, I suppose I can expect no more of you than to get yourself in trouble as well, what are you waiting for? Get off to the hospital wing, I'm sure the potion hadn't immobilized your legs?"

Harry was somewhat surprised that Snape was willing to let him go without taking any points, but he couldn't afford to leave the lesson now; not when he was looking forward to having a nice chat with the Professor afterwards. He replied calmly, despite the sweat on his face, "I would much prefer to stay. Thank you, Sir." Looking up at Snape, locking the man's black eyes with his own emerald green ones, he added, "I've been through worse ones."

Snape's gaze seemed to waiver for a moment, before he spat out a fine and swept away. Harry sighed and sat down, after making sure that no one else was watching, he cast a temporary pain-reliving charm on himself; healing charms were still too complex for him, and he had no wish to have the red spots fixed permanently on his arm because of a lousy healing charm of a first year.

"Harry, are you sure you are alright?" Hermione whispered, "That was very brave of you, shielding me from the potion and all."

Harry gave her a little smile, "No problem. I'm alright, it doesn't even hurt much now; it's just that I probably wouldn't be able to use my left arm until I am properly healed."

Hermione mouthed a "thank you" while looking at Snape warily, he didn't seem to notice the exchange of words. She decided it was safe to continue the conversation, "Why didn't you want to go to the hospital wing, though? The burns surely looked bad."

"I'm fine, really...I just, need to talk to Professor Snape about something after class. And I'm sure I'll be stuck there all day if I went to the hospital wing." Hermione looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

Harry waited until the classroom was cleared of other students, then he turned to speak to Snape. The other snarled when he realized Harry was still here, "What is it Potter? I haven't gotten all day."

Harry fingered his robe, suddenly a little hesitant. This whole thing seemed quite irrational to him now; _so what if Snape knows he had accidentally helped you once? He'll probably curse himself for doing so as he seemed determined to hate you_. Harry drew a breath, there's no backing out now, "Well, sir, I just wanted to say that I never forgot your kindness three years ago...and, and I am very grateful for what you did for me." With that, he turned to leave, leaving a very bewildered looking potion master behind. He was just about to step out of the classroom when the older man snapped, "Wait a minute, Potter."

Harry turned, and saw that Snape's face had gone impassive again. The potion master took out his want and cast a healing spell on Harry's arm, "You are free to leave now."

Harry flashed him a big smile and fled.

He was still in such a good mood when he reached the common room that he was beaming with delight as he seated himself near Hermione. She gave him a weird look, "I take it that everything went well between you and Snape?"

"Couldn't've been better," agreed Harry, "Hmmm...What have we got, Transportation essay?" That was enough to get Hermione off the track, and they were soon joined by Terry, who obviously thought it convenient to team up with the two top students of their year. Between the three of them, homework was soon finished, and Hermione declared that she thought they should start looking over tomorrow's lessons. A notion which, to Harry's surprise, Terry heartily agreed to. Those two were true Ravenclaws, after all, he reminded himself. As Harry had no intention to spend the whole night reading boring textbooks, he got up and told them that he'd prefer a stroll to clear up his mind a bit.

After some stern warnings form Hermione to be back before the curfew, he was finally free to leave. Harry grinned a little; he actually did plan on missing the curfew and had brought his invisibility cloak along with him. He thought of his promise to the Bloody Baron and supposed he ought to visit the ghost sometime. But he didn't want to be reminded of a certain Slytherin just yet, and decided to pull off the visit until later.

Still thinking, he nearly bumped into someone as he turned at the corner. "Oh, I'm sorry," he started and bent down to pull the other boy up, "Neville?!"

The other boy grinned, "Harry! I heard about the accident in Potions today; and, and since I didn't find you in the hospital wing...I just thought I'd check up on you."

"And just how did you plan on entering the Ravenclaw common room without a password?" Harry teased. Seeing Neville's embarrassment, he quickly added, "I really appreciate it though, thank you. So how is your first day?"

Neville shrugged, "It was okay...I guess everything went fine except Potions. Harry, that Professor Snape was dreadful! And we had his class with the Slytherins; they made passes at us all the time, and Snape wouldn't do a thing about it."

Harry nodded sympathetically, he knew of the heated rivalry between those two houses. "Well, at least you guys will have flying lesson with us tomorrow."

If Harry was trying to console Neville, he couldn't have been more wrong; a shadow immediately settled over the other boy's features, "I almost forgot! Flying lessons...gran never let me touch a broom before; said I was too clumsy...what if I am the only one who can't fly tomorrow?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine. There are many Muggleborns who probably have never mounted a broom before. And I'm not very good at flying either," Harry lied, "We'll just have to help each other."

Neville nodded, "Thanks, Harry. By the way, where were you going before I bumped into you?"

Harry winced; he cannot let Neville know of his plans, yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to lie to the boy who was looking at him with such innocent eyes._ I must've been getting softer; _lying had never bothered him before Thinking fast, he coughed an answer, "I...er...I am going to the library to get a book I need for my homework tonight. I gotta run y'know, it's near curfew." Excellent answer, and not exactly a lie, either. Neville nodded ever so understandingly and bade Harry goodbye. Harry let out a small sigh as the other boy disappeared down the corridor. To avoid more encounters like this, he put on his cloak swiftly after making sure no one was in sight.

* * *

The library was eerily quiet when he slipped in, as it was a little after the curfew. Carefully stepping over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library (you'd think that they'd use something more effective than ropes if they really wanted to keep students out; but then, most people don't get the chance to be anywhere near the section without a glaring Madam Pince), Harry found himself safe in the Restricted Section. It was even darker than the rest of the library, and the air was stiff with dust and the smell of old books. However, Harry found it simply fascinating. Books hundreds of years old were peering at him, calling out to be read; Harry felt the Ravenclaw in himself stir. He quickly conjured up a light and scanned through the titles. A leather-bond book caught his attention; shrugging, he reached for it - a mistake he was not likely to repeat. 

As soon as he opened it, a piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence. Berating himself with all the obscenities he knew, Harry quickly put out the light with a "_Nox_," pulled the cloak over him and strode outside; even as he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside. How could he have been so careless as to open a book without checking first? You'd think after spending all those years in Riddle Manor...Harry sighed; perhaps the three years without Voldie had really changed him more than he'd thought possible.

"Who is there?" A harsh voice broke Harry away from his thoughts. Filch, the caretaker, was staring at Harry's direction suspiciously. Harry hoped the man'd just turn away, but apparently good things just don't happen to Harry Potter, for Filch was positively moving towards him with out-stretched arms. Harry held back his breath, and moved further down the corridor as quietly as possible, with Filch gaining on him. Turning desperately, he saw a door stood ajar to his left. Without a second thought, he squeezed though it.

Harry pulled off his cloak and let himself relax as he heard Filch's footsteps die away. He was vaguely aware that he was in an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but something propped against the wall facing him caught his eye. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. Harry eyed it closely and found an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _Frowning slightly Harry stepped closer, as the line was somehow familiar to him; he was sure he had read it somewhere in a book...Ah, the Mirror of Erised! Harry's eyes widened with shock as realization dawned on him. He quickly turned around so that he would not see what was in the mirror. He was afraid of what he might see.

For hours, it seemed, he just stood there; unable to face the mirror yet unable to leave. Biting his lips, Harry willed himself to go back to his dormitory, have a nice sleep, and forget about the mirror. _But surely looking into it wouldn't hurt, would it?_ A small voice in his head suggested innocently. Harry gulped... _alright, just a peek, that's all._ Turning abruptly, he opened his eyes -

And his worst fear was confirmed: even after all these years of knowing Voldemort's wrongs and what would happen to the world if the Dark Lord had had his way, his biggest desire was still to have his Voldie back. The older man was smiling at him, which was sure to freaj anybody else out if they were to see _that_ expression on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's face. But wait, there was more...two other people were sitting with the Dark Lord; they were smiling, waving at Harry, and - HAVING TEA WITH VOLDEMORT?! Harry could have laughed out loud; yet his heart sank as he realized just who those two people were. His deepest desire was to have his parents having a friendly chat with the man who murdered them. Tears of shame welled up in Harry's eyes; how could he even _hope_ to have his parents forgive Voldemort so that he can follow the Dark Lord with a light conscious? Not wishing to stand this any longer, he turned and fled - only to run into another person.

Harry looked up into cold black eyes; Snape was staring down at him. "P-Professor…I-I didn't mean…" he stuttered out, mirroring Quirrell.

Snape frowned; he ought to be happy to have caught his old rival's son outside of bed – a perfect chance to take off major points from Gryff-Ravenclaw. Yet the tear-strained face of Potter unsettled him; it was not like the boy to break up like that, he himself had seen the boy's cool composure after the boiling potion spilled on him. "What is wrong, Potter?" he spat, surprising even himself.

Harry looked up dumbly, wondering why Snape wasn't taking off hundreds of points already. Eager to have someone to confine in, though, he answered, "I…I looked into the Mirror…and I, I saw _him_…"

"The Dark Lord?" Snape broke in quickly, "But how could you…"

Harry rubbed his forehead in distress, "But that was not all…I also saw my parents, with him…I mean, they were actually _friendly_ with him…" He sighed, in calmer voice he added, "I know…it was stupid…how could I even hope they'd get alone with their murderer…plus Voldemort never was…he wasn't anything to me…he, he was just…" Merlin he hated those sharp black eyes of the Potion Master; he had an uncomfortable feeling that they were reading him, revealing those that were unsaid…

"I would wonder why your deepest desire concerns the Dark Lord if he were nothing to you," Snape stated dryly.

Harry looked away…he knew he had to tell someone, to sort things out…but could Snape be trusted? Would he understand?

Snape sighed when Potter didn't reply, that little brat! No matter, he would not push the boy further for now. "Well, Potter, since you don't seem capable of giving out any answers, perhaps it is time for bed? Now be warned: you will not get off so easily the next time."

Harry could hardly believe his ears, he supposed his show of gratitude had more profound effects than he'd expected. He scrambled away hurriedly, thanking whichever muggle who had said that "he that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another than he whom you yourself have obliged."

* * *

The second day of school found a very tired Harry Potter. Hermione and Terry gawked at the black bangs under his eyes during breakfast. "Harry...when did you come back last night?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing dangerously. 

"Er...a little later than usual?" Harry replied sheepishly, "Come on, Hermione, it wasn't even that late...I just couldn't sleep last night." Harry replied, rubbing his forehead again; it was becoming a subconscious act of his. That was when he realized something was amiss...the faint tingles in his scar were gone. He looked up at the High Table, and was surprised to find several teachers, including Snape, missing. Perhaps the feelings were due to Snape's dark mark? It was a plausible answer, which would also explain why it was gone now... "HARRY!"

Startled, he spilled the pumpkin juice he was holding and found a very aggravated Hermione glaring at him, "Were you even listening to me? You could have lost us points, wondering around after curfew..." Sighing, Harry gave his friend a guilty grin. Inwardly, however, he realized that he acutally quite enjoyed her overprotectiveness and the fact that he could answer her questions without trying to figure out underlying messages. It was one of the things that he needed getting used to when he first moved in with Sirius and Remus - that those people_ meant_ what they said and only that. However, he wasnontheless quite relieved when Terry announced it was time to go to classes.

* * *

Neville looked at Harry worriedly as they gathered on the grounds outside the forbidden forest for their flying lesson. "Harry, are you sure you're alright? You don't look too good." 

Harry gave the other a small smile – which was interrupted by a yawn - and replied, "Yeah I'm fine…just didn't have enough sleep last night, that was all."

Hermione made a snort but mercifully did not press the matter, as she was distracted by her nervousness towards their first flying lesson. Their conversation was caught short as Madam Hooch arrived. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

At his command, Harry's broom jumped into his hand. He looked around and was troubled to see that neither Hermione nor Neville managed to do that, although Hermione's did roll over on the ground. After a few other try, Madam Hooch proceeded to show them how to mount their brooms and checked for their grips. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle.

Harry had a glimpse of his friend's scared, white face before he shot up into the sky and tightened his grip on his broom. He knew he should take off after Neville, but that would definitely give away his flying skills. _Why wasn't Madam Hooch after him_, he thought desperately. Just then, the red-head boy who came with Neville took off, he flew after the other determinedly albeit a little shakily. Harry looked at Neville and realized the nervous boy was slipping sideways off the broom. The other boy was not fast enough to catch up on him – unless… Harry shouted, "Don't chase after him, dive under him!" To his immense relieve the other obeyed his command, and not a second too soon. For Neville slipped off his broom then and was falling like a rock straight to the ground. The other boy just barely managed to catch him and the impact sent them swirling to the ground. They managed a relatively safe, though definitely not graceful, landing. Madam Hooch rushed to their side, after checking for any injuries, she declared the class dismissed a bit shakily.

Harry went to catch up with Neville, "Are you alright?"

The other boy gave him a little smile, "Yeah, thanks to you and Ron." Harry made a guilty noise at that and found the red-head patting his shoulder. "It's lucky that you told me where to dive, ya know."

Harry brushed it off, "You are a good flyer; I could have never done that." Ron's face turned bright red at that, and Harry was pleased to note that he had just made another friend. He invited the two to come over to Ravenclaw table for lunch, which they accepted after a moment of hesitation. Near the end of the meal, Harry and Ron were already talking like they've known each other for years. The other boy's straight-forward personality fascinated Harry. You could literally read emotions off the red-head's face, and you could tell that he was the kind of person who would run after a course he deemed right without a second thought; he was everything Harry could never hope to be, not after living with a Dark Lord for eight long years. _Could be a useful follower later_, Harry thought, and instantly berated himself for evaluating his friends like goods, manipulating people around. He shuddered at how closely he imitated Voldie.

* * *

Harry excused himself from dinner early as he was rather tired and was planning on going to sleep early. He walked through what were now almost empty corridors since most of the school were still in the Great hall. That was when he saw a shadow disappear around a corner. Curious, he sneaked up silently, just in time to see Quirrell swept outside the school through a side-door. Harry frowned as he realized that Quirrell was one of the teachers that were missing today, and his garment surely showed that he'd done some great traveling. After a moment's pondering, Harry whispered, "_Accio cloak_!" Pulling it over him, he went after Quirrell, well-aware that he was acting more like a foolhardy Gryffindor than anything. Yet there was something about Quirrell that called to him, and Harry was confident that he could hide himself well enough. 

Harry followed as Quirrell made his way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There was something stealthy about that man, and he constantly looked back over his shoulders to check for followers. Quirrell seemed to stop near a large tree, and Harry crept up to find he _talking_ to a large snake. That was _not_ possible! For all he knew, the only living Parselmouths were Voldemort and Harry himself. Harry narrowed his eyes; he could hear the hissings but were too far to tell what they were speaking about. His eyes traveled to the black snake, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he recognized it: Nagini. What was _she_ doing here? The snake had disappeared after Voldemort's fall, and it was first time in years since Harry last saw it. Harry's mouth set determinedly, he was sure Voldemort had something to do with this, and he would find it out. He tried his best to not to think about what he would do after he found out their plan or meet their master, for now, he desperately needed to see reassurance that Voldie was still around.

The two figures stopped talking and started moving further into the forest. Harry followed suit, eyes intent on them. Darkness soon devoured him.

* * *

**A/N: Passing reader**, **DARKMARK33LV**, **Maryna**, **sadisticfreak5290**, thank you all for reviewing again, I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. 


	6. Chapter 5: Betrayal

**Choice – Chapter 5: Betrayal**

Harry followed with great difficulties. The forest was pitch dark, and he had the disadvantage of having to avoid all the roots and fallen leaves as to make no sound, which the other two had no problem of doing.

Harry frowned, this would not do. At this rate, he was sure to lose his targets. Just then, he tripped over a stone that was well-hidden in the darkness. He cursed silently and held still, praying that neither Quirrell nor Nagini had heard him. He couldn't be sure though, as snakes had a superior sense of hearing. He dimly saw the man converse with the snake again and fastened his pace. Harry got up from the ground as soon as he dared and tried hopelessly to catch up. He sighed as the pair disappeared into the depth of the forest, so much for a successful stalking.

It first occurred to him that he ought to go back before anyone noticed he was gone, and the fact that he was, alone, in a dangerous forest full of unknown creatures didn't help to brighten the matter, either. Just as he turned to leave, however, he heard a heart-piercing scream. The sound was musical, yet it was filled with fear and despair. Harry froze on his spot; he was sure Quirrell had something to do with that. Against his better judgment – and later he'd question his sanity, Harry took off after the source of the sound, no longer caring about the noises he made along the way.

Harry ran faster as he heard the same creature scream again, though the sound was fainter this time. He almost tripped in a silvery liquid, unicorn blood? Harry frowned; he knew what unicorn blood could be used for…but could Voldemort be that desperate? Anyhow he needed to get to there soon; Harry fastened his steps as his worry for the other man grew. If the Dark Lord would be content even with a cursed half-life, then Harry could not bring himself to think of his current state. The blood provided him an easy trail, and he could see that he was being led to a clearing in the forest.

Suddenly a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered… Then, out of the shadows, Harry could make out a hooded figure. "Voldie?" he asked, unsure of what to say. The figure tensed momentarily, for a moment Harry thought it was going to speak to him – then he was slammed into the ground most viciously.

A heavy, long object had wrapped itself around his neck and hands…he could barely breath. Harry struggled vainly, recognizing the attacker to be a seething Nagini. _Traitor…ssstay away from massster…_ He could hear she hiss angrily. Harry tried to explain, to hiss back; but air was being denied to him. His air-deprived mind fought frantically to understand what was going on while adjusting to the shock that Nagini, the nanny-like snake of his childhood, had just called him a traitor and was attacking him. Harry felt consciousness slipping away as his lungs screamed for air…he was going to die; he just knew it now… he was going to break his neck… the bound on him was as tight as ever…air. Before he slipped into the darkness however, he thought he imagined an angry hiss of "_stop_…"

* * *

Harry Potter found himself in a most awkward position. If being dead was like this, then he could truly understand why so many feared death. He could feel his legs and arms dangling beside him, and as far as he knew, he was being carried by some kind of…horse? He hurt all over; every joint of his bones aching. He also had a major headache, and he could hardly open his eyes. Somehow even breathing hurt… _Wait a minute, breathing_? The boy inhaled experimentally, and almost cried out in pain. But he was somewhat relieved that he was at least still alive. Then he realized there were voices speaking around him. 

"That little insolent brat…has no regard for school rules…" a familiar voice spat. It took Harry a while to realize who it belonged to – Snape. Had the Potion Master found him then? And who was he talking to?

And surely another voice spoke up, "It was a trap set for him…you cannot blame him for trying to stop the evil that was too powerful for him to handle."

A _trap_? Set for _him_? Voldemort tried to kill him?! No…this cannot be true… Voldie would never do that; h-he promised… Snape seemed to be pondering the same, for he voiced the exact question, "Are you sure? Why would someone deliberately try to kill a mere child?"

"I overheard them talking about the plan earlier in the forest, there was no mistaking in it…Beware wizard, an evil is stirring."

"What to you mean?" the Potions Master's voice was sharp, "You…you don't mean the Dar-"

Harry heard no more; his world was falling apart upon those words. All he could think was that there was no denying that Voldemort had tried to kill him, and it was no accident. Harry couldn't help but gave out a small sob; the truth was too painful for him to swallow. He barely noticed himself being handed over to the Potion Master and that he was being steered towards the castle.

Sitting himself in front of Potter in his office, Snape wanted to rant, to let the little idiot know how foolish his actions had been. But the sight of the boy was enough to even shun _him_ from voicing further reproach. Harry's robe was torn and dirty, he had a small gash on his forehead, and one could see bruises and blood around his neck. What troubled Snape most though, was the way the child stared at the floor forlornly as if it were the end of the world, with silent tears sliding down his face.

"Well, I am not going to inform the Headmaster about this, and you won't be expelled, _this time_. So there's no need for those pathetic tears." Snape had to give himself credit; he almost spoke to the boy kindly.

The boy looked up at him stupidly; it seemed to take him a while to realize what the Potion Master had just said. He nodded and croaked a small "thank you," but his voice was hoarse, he looked unconcerned, and he coughed up blood.

Snape frowned, "Well, I suppose I should take you to the infamy…"

"No! Please!" Harry almost jumped up despite his injuries.

"Fine," Snape spat, handing the child some healing potion, "You can stay here tonight. But it doesn't mean you can get away from this. You will have to explain to me what happened, Potter."

"How could he…I can't believe he did this to me…" Harry murmured softly.

Snape went very pare. "Who was there?" he asked intently, although he already had a vague idea of who it might have been.

"Voldemort. He tried to drink a unicorn's blood," came the quiet reply.

Snape swallowed at his former Lord's name, "So You-Know-Who was there? But how dare he come so close to Dumbledore…"

"How could he…He promised he would never hurt me…" the boy was still muttering to himself, apparently not hearing a word Snape had said.

Snape snapped, "How dense are you, Potter? This is the Dark Lord we are talking about. Although I too wonder why he would even bother to deliberately set up a trap to kill a nobody like you, I have no doubt that he would have no trouble murdering people. Really, how in the Merlin's name did you manage to get into Ravenclaw?"

"Because I begged to not to be put in Slytherin?" Harry answered truthfully.

Snape snarled despite his better judgment; wounded or not, how dare that little brat insult his house like that, "And may I ask why would you consider my house below you?"

Harry looked up, in a small voice he answered, "Do you not know? The children reminded me of their parents…"

Snape felt something dangerously like guilt, but he still countered, "Well, you had no problem running after the Dark Lord…"

"Voldemort never touched me!" To his surprise, anger shone in Harry's eyes, but it was soon replaced with sadness, "No until now…anyhow…"

Snape frowned; so there was more to this boy than he'd originally thought. "Explain," he commanded.

Harry sighed, "I guess it doesn't really matter now… you're bound to know anyway. Well…Voldemort, he was nice to me before the Death Eaters came. He never forced me to do anything I didn't want to and he once promised me that he would never hurt me. I never told anyone because I know they'd think they way you're thinking right now: Harry Potter a Voldemort-supporter." He gave out a bitter laugh.

"And you are not?"

"Never, not about his goals and the way he sets out to achieve them anyway."

Snape sighed inwardly, "And what makes you think he'd want to keep someone who knows many of his secrets that would never support him?"

Harry winced; he knew his actions in these three years gave Voldemort no reason to trust him. He was what Nagini had called him, a traitor; for a moment he wasn't sure if Voldemort had really betrayed his trust or if _he_ himself had been the one to betray Voldemort's. Still… he had thought the Dark Lord saw more in him than a pawn, and the Dark Lord had promised he didn't have to follow him…he wasn't there only to be eliminated once he fell out of the other man's grip…

Snape bent down and looked into Harry's eyes, "Listen, Harry. I have served the Dark Lord myself. I know what kind of person he is…he could make you feel that he really values you, cares for you. But all he does is to use you…you heard the centaur today, he tried murder you like he did your parents when he realized that you are forever turned against him."

Harry swallowed hard, every of Snape's words stung. In his distress he didn't even notice that the other had addressed him with his first name. What the man said was what he had been trying to deny all along, yet the words sounded so cruelly true coming out of Snape's mouth. "No…" he argued weakly, "He could have turned me…but he didn't…if he wanted to use me, then why didn't he teach me to be a Death Eater while I was with him?"

Snape looked at him, "I didn't think he planned on his downfall that particular day."

Harry did not want to listen; why did that man have to say everything out loud and shatter every of Harry's last defense? He didn't need to hear it…He had been used, fooled, by the only person he ever trusted… _Stop!_ Harry inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself; he would not break down in front of Snape again. "What are we to do then? He is obviously planning on something," he asked conversationally.

Snape looked at him closely, and asked, "How much exactly do you know?"

Harry jumped; should he tell Snape of Quirrell's involvement? It was obvious that Quirrell was meeting Voldemort…yet somehow he could not bring himself to do so; something in his heart stopped him from uttering a word about this. "Hmm…well, today I just had this really weird feeling…And, er, I saw a shadow near the Forbidden Forest, so I took off after it. (Snape snorted and muttered "Gryffindor stupidity" while Harry rolled eyes)Then I saw his snake and this hooded figure talking to it. As far as I know, he's the only one who can do that, so I followed. Then I heard a unicorn scream and the snake attacked me." That was not all, but Harry was not ready to go dumping all of his secrets to another after being betrayed so recently. Still, he had told Snape more than he had anybody else; he almost felt as if Snape could understand his grief. In a way he suppose the other man could, as he thought of Snape's mention of his past experience with the Dark Lord.

Snape pondered the information, "Well, I will have to inform the Headmaster about certain things… he has to know that a unicorn was killed, possibly by Voldemort…and did you mention that Voldemort had a body?"

"Er…well…It would seem so…what really happened to him three years ago really?"

Snape looked uncomfortable. "That is not something you should concern yourself with," he snapped tersely, his tone clearly suggesting that the discussion was over.

Harry sighed inwardly, he didn't expect to be told much anyway, but it couldn't hurt to ask. At Snape's command he drank down some potion and drifted to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Harry smiled a little at Ron's joke as he and Neville came over to their table for a visit during the Halloween feast. His friends had all noticed the change in him; ever since he disappeared for a night and a day and returned with bruises all over him, he had become more quiet and withdrawn. His vivid green eyes looked…sad. But none of them knew what to do. Neville and Ron had suggested flying, Hermione and Terry reading. Yet nothing could stop Harry from replaying the events of that fateful night. He noticed his friends' worries, though; and decided that he will have to act more normally to get rid of their prying and mother-hen protectiveness. 

His friends were definitely encouraged by his smile, and they went on talking about school and current events. Harry nodded now and then to show that he was paying attention and let his mind drift. But something Hermione said caught his attention. "What was it?" he asked.

Hermione was obviously happy to see him participate in a conversation, "Oh, Harry. I don't see why you should be worried, but didn't you know? It was all over the news a few months ago. There was a break-in at Gringotts; but the vault was emptied earlier that same day so nothing was missing. It all died down now, of course. But what troubles me is that they never caught who did it, and Gringotts was supposed to be impossible to break in…"

_A break in at Gringotts?_ Somehow it rang a bell; he asked sharply, "When exactly did this happen?"

Hermione looked surprised that he should be so concerned, but she answered anyway, "Actually, I think it was the day…when, you know, you didn't show up at your dormitory."

Harry thought hard. So it was the day the teachers went missing. Whatever was in the vault must be very important…and the teachers could be transporting it to Hogwarts to be protected from whoever was trying to steal it. Harry didn't tell Snape about Quirrell, but he had kept an eye on that seemingly weak-minded professor ever since. He saw no more suspicious moves, yet he was sure this had to do with Quirrell and Vol… Harry felt another painful bang; _what am I to do with you?_ He played with his fork absently and shook his head, trying to free his mind of the issue. He would leave the matter alone, let Dumbledore and others to handle it. After all, wasn't the Headmaster supposedly the most powerful wizard in the world?

Harry stood up abruptly, his appetite suddenly gone. "I, I think I need some fresh air…you guys go on," he muttered and slipped out of the hall, ignoring his friends' exchange of worried looks.

He wandered mindlessly through the corridors, deep in his own thoughts, when he heard someone call out his name. Turning, his heart sank as he saw the ghost drift over.

"Well, well, I believe we have a little chat over-due, Mr. Potter," the Bloody Baron said.

"Er, well, sorry I've been busy…"

The Baron chuckled, "No need to fidget, just like him before you, full of ambitious plans, aren't you?"

Harry was really uncomfortable now, "I don't really want to talk about him, please."

The Baron raised one of his silvery eye-brows, "No? That is not the right attitude for your kindred spirit…I believe he cares deeply for you…"

That did it. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM?" Harry shouted, "You hadn't even seen him for what, fifty years? Voldemort cares nothing about me; I am just a pawn to him, like everybody else! And don't you tell me the 'kindred spirit' crap again, I'm nothing like you guys! And I care nothing about his bloody plans!"

The Bloody Baron opened his mouth, but Harry never found out what the ghost was about to say. Grateful that the corridor was empty, he had already stormed down the corridor in his fit of rage.

* * *

Harry splattered cool water onto his face. Standing in front of the sink, he tried desperately to regain his composure. Somehow that seemed to evade him, as he not only failed to calm down, he even started having illusions of a minor earthquake. 

It took him a while to realize that the ground was actually shaking; curious, he walked out of the bathroom he had been hiding in. A foul smell greeted him, and the floor sway yet again with a "boom." Looking up, Harry was transfixed to the spot he was standing on by the sight before him. Twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut, a mountain troll was moving towards him, swaying its club.

The first thought that came across his mind was that Voldemort had somehow sent this thing in, trying to kill him again. Which was a bad move. Because once he thought of that, his heart went so heavy that he found himself unable to move. What was there to live for if the only person that ever understood you turned against you? Harry stood facing the advancing troll, submitting to his fate.

"Harry!" A scream made him look up. Hermione, Neville, and Ron were running towards him, with Hermione murmuring some spell frantically. A part of the wall that was hit by the troll's club flew up, hitting the foul creature on the head. It stopped a few feet from Harry, lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had hit him. Its mean little eyes saw the three approaching figures; it hesitated, then made for them instead, lifting its club as it went. Harry could see his friend's face whiten with terror, and they tried in vain to stupefy the troll. The troll could be on them any minute now, and Harry ran after it, pulling out his wand. Giving up his own sodding life was one thing, seeing his friends being threatened was another. He yelled, "_Stupefy_!"

The troll swayed on its feet, but was not immobilized as it was supposed to be. It roared in rage and raised its club. Harry saw red as the wood swayed towards his friends. Gathering up all his strength, he shouted again, "_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS_!" He felt a great wave of magic swept through him, and the troll fell to the floor with a thunderous sound.

Hermione, Neville, and Ron look at him white-faced. "Wow…" Loud footsteps made the four of them look up, however. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had burst into sight, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell.

Snape bent over the troll. Quirrell took a look at Harry and then the troll – and fainted. McGonagall, however, was looking at the four with seething anger. "What on earth were you thinking of?" she asked in cold fury, "You are lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Please, Professor," Harry spoke up, supporting himself on the wall, "It was my fault; they were looking for me. I left the feast early; I didn't know there was a troll…"

"Mister Potter…Well, your head of house will be informed and –" but Professor McGonagall never finished her sentence, for Harry Potter had just fainted.

* * *

_Voldemort…troll…must help… Hermione, Neville and Ron…_Harry gave a start and opened his eyes. He found himself lying on a hard, uncomfortable bed. It must be late at night, for the room was dark and quiet. He looked around, careful to limit his movements to a minimum, and realized it was the hospital wing. He squeezed his eyes tight as the events of past few hours rushed back at him. It was suddenly very cold. 

Harry tightened the blanket around himself and curled up in his bed miserably. He felt more alone than ever. The cold was all around him, and it was stinging his finger. Harry raised his hand to find the silver ring glittering. It had been with him for so long that he was almost oblivious to its presence; besides, it had always been warm before, never cold. Harry gasped as he looked at the little serpent; if snakes had facial expressions, he could have swore the serpent looked sad. Even as he watched, a pearl tear slid down its eye.

_What the..._Harry's grief suddenly turned into rage as he shakily tried to take it off. How _dare_ he...how dare Voldemort play with his emotion like this? Right after two murder attempts, too! He threw the ring down at the floor vehemently and reached for his ward, spells of ultimate destruction flying through his head –

Two minutes later, Harry still sat immobile. Slowly, he let his hand fall to his side, and his wand hit the floor with a crack. Wordlessly, he bent down to pick up the ring. Placing a soft kiss on the little serpent's forehead and slipping it back on, he sat back to bed, worn and defeated. It didn't mean anything; he still vowed to stay away from Voldemort, not that any sane person would want to be near someone who was trying to kill him. He just kept it because he was lonely, and the ring was the only thing he could talk to without caution. He had come to take a liking this silent companion, that was all. He assured himself.

"I suppose it's not your fault that Voldemort decided to use you, too," he murmured softly to the little snake. The snake stared sadly back at him.

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Darkmark33LV: **Thank you so much for mentioning my fic! Hmm…Harry won't find out about Quirrell sharing a body with Voldemort for a while, and, er, his encounter in the forest is rather…nasty, as you can see from this chapter (don't kill me)!

**Shadowface: **Heehee, Harry will waver around a bit before he decides which side he'll be on. You'll have to read and find out! evil laughs

**Lady Phasma: **Yes the Death Eaters will be in big trouble, although obviously Voldemort will need some of them. But not every one of them did bad things to Harry, just the ones that… Well, let's just say that Voldemort will have no regret torturing them until death becomes a bliss for some.

**Maryna: **Thank you! Yeah I'm sorry that Harry had to see that in the mirror. But deep down I think that's the only thing keeping him from Voldie at this point, although he might not think so. So unconsciously he wants a reconcilement of some sort b/w his parents and Voldemort. Poor boy, he has lots in store for him.

**Evil Enchantress: **Thanks! I usually don't leave cliffhangers unless I'm not sure if anybody is reading. And the one in the last chapter can't really be counted as a cliffy…I was tempted to leave it at some point that I moved into this chapter originally, now _that _would be bad. Read and you'll see what I mean (hint: Nagini…attack) So don't worry, that should not happen often. I know how that feels

**Ookami Kage: **Thank you! I really want to see them together too, but first Harry needs to grow up and Voldemort needs to acquire a physical body.

**Deliverance:** Thank you! Yes, this is going to be a mild slash, although Harry will have to be a little older.

**Angel Lain:** Thanks! Oh and could you please point out which part you were confused about? I know I understand the story b/c I'm writing it, but I do worry sometimes if everything is clear to the readers as well.

**HoshiHikari4ever:** Thanks!

**MadeWithLemons:** Thank you! I am really trying to get the story out. But school's been very demanding, although I think I shall manage a chapter per week. And I am happy as long as I have all those supportive reviewers like you guys, no need for hundreds of reviews! :)

**darkdragonlover2000 (a.k.a SwordoftheShadow):** Thank you!

**Malile:** Thanks!


	7. Chapter 6: Trap

**Choice – Chapter 6: Trap**

It was one cold morning; Harry sat on the window of the Owlery, gazing over snow-covered ground and the sleeping castle. The place was unusually empty, as most owls were summoned to deliver gifts. A few were hooting softly near him, and everything looked peaceful in white.

It was only fitting that he should spend this Christmas alone. Harry stroke an owl absently as he recalled a terribly upset Sirius informing him that he and Remus had important business to do during the holidays and that it would be safest for Harry to stay in Hogwarts. He wasn't upset, not really, as he needed the time to be alone, to sort things out.

He still hadn't told anybody about Quirrell. And why hadn't he done so was beyond him. It seemed that after all he'd been through, he still couldn't bring himself to act against Voldie-Voldemort. Thus he had settled back to ignore the matter all together, although it was becoming increasingly difficult. A part of him was terribly curious as to what was being guarded and what Voldemort's plan could be. And the teachers weren't being very helpful either, dropping little information here and there. Sure, Harry perfected the arts of being "unnoticeable" (a good way to gain information, he was taught) when around people, but must they be so careless? It was a wonder whatever they were guarding was still there, or perhaps they just simply had full faith in the protections they had set up. This was not like Dumbledore at all; for all Harry knew, the Headmaster should have obliviated them all right after the protection was set up or at least placed some kind of binding spells on them so they couldn't talk about the matter. Some casual questioning with the students had led him to believe that it was in the corridor Dumbledore warned of earlier in the year. And if he was correct, they would be protecting the Philosopher's Stone (Thanks to Hagrid, the Gamekeeper's, great slip). That would explain a lot of things, such as why Voldemort even resorted in drinking unicorn blood (a half-cursed life wouldn't be that bad, if you had the Elixir of Life to restore your life force soon after). Harry wondered what that man had suffered to attempt such desperate measures, although he seemed to have a physical body, didn't he?

Turning, he headed back to his dormitory; he was sure a few people would have sent him gifts by then, and since he had no better thing to do, he might as well check those out.

A fire was burning rather too cheerfully in his opinion when Harry stepped inside. There were holiday decorations around the room, yet somehow it still managed to hollow; perhaps partly because of the fact that Harry was the only one in sight. The other two Ravenclaws must be still sleeping; not that it mattered to Harry, as they were both third years and rarely spoke to him anyway. He bent down near the tree in the middle of the room and sorted out his presents. There weren't many, but it was the most Harry had ever got for a single holiday: _The Ultimate Pranker's Guide was _from Sirius. Harry smiled, that man never gave up, did he? Sirius had been most appalled that a Marauder's son had turned out to be so studious and had been trying to "enlighten" Harry ever since. _Potion Wonders_ from Remus. It was just like him to take note of Harry's favorite subject. _The Magical Road to Top Marks_ was, unsurprisingly, from Hermione. Harry smiled wryly; it would seem that he had played his book-worm mask a tad too well; so far all he had gotten were books. The next present was from Ron, the red-haired boy had given Harry a snow-white quill. It wasn't much, but Harry was moved; he knew of the Weasley family's economic difficulties. Neville had given him a box of miscellaneous wizarding sweets; and Terry gave him yet another book.

Harry put down his presents and started writing thank-you notes. He was very thankful, yet he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, as if he had been expecting something else. _Stupid, who else would send **you** a present?_ He shrugged as he wrote. In the back of his mind a small voice threatened to answer; Harry silenced it most vehemently.

* * *

When he went down to the Great Hall, the House tables had been moved against the wall, and a single round table stood in the middle of the room. All the professors were there, as well as the five remaining students, including Harry. 

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as all seated, "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables…Sit down, sit down!"

Most of the other students went red on being addressed on such familiar terms by Dumbledore and mumbled "thanks'". Harry followed suit, although in truth the other man's cheerful, grandfatherly tone sent shivers down his spine; it just sounded…_too_ sincere and kind.

With a flicker of his hand, food appeared on the table, and Dumbledore indicated for everyone to help themselves. Reluctantly, Harry tucked sufficient food into his plate as to not to arouse suspicion, having no intention to let the Headmaster see his worries. But he could hardly swallow as he was overwhelmed by yet another touch in his scar; it had been the strongest one so far ever since the faint feelings returned. He looked around but saw no other person present except the students and the professors. Looking down at his plate, he helped himself with a bit of roast chicken.

To help divert himself from staring at his food stupidly, Harry started a conversation with the Hufflepuff boy, Cedric Diggory, who was seated at his left side, surprising Cedric to no end with his knowledge of the other. Loner Harry may be, but he was not oblivious to people around him. Knowing people was important, as it may come in handy when they turned out to be your foes or when you wanted to make friends with them; it's amazing how swelled-headed people got when they realized that others took notice of them. Harry was just celebrating inwardly for having finished his plate when Cedric spoke, "How interesting...I wonder what that is?"

Following the other's glance, Harry's mouth fell. It...It was impossible! He stared at the plate in disbelief; w-was it even school appropriate? For in the plate was unmistakably the Muggle sweet, Spanish Gold. He sat immobile, almost overwhelmed by his emotions. Then, with a slightly shaky hand, he helped himself with some, and let the sweet flavor melt in his mouth. For a moment, it was almost as if everything was like three years ago again.

"Harry?" Cedric was obviously surprised by Harry's reaction. Harry blinked and answered, "Oh, I was just surprised to see it here, it's Muggle, you see." Pausing for a moment, he added, "It used to be my favorite."

All thanks to Lord Voldemort. Yes, the Muggle-hating Dark Lord, most evil wizard alive, had a bizarre addiction to this Muggle sweet. Just trust Voldemort to take a liking in such a twisted candy; although Harry had suspected that it had something to do with his childhood. The man would literally gorge the sweet (in private, of course) like he'd never had enough of it all his life. Harry smiled faintly, recalling moments when the two of them would just talk and stuff their mouths with Spanish Gold. It had always been Harry's best black-mail material, although he himself had grown rather fond of it due to the Voldemort's influence.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore nervously and decided that it was impossible that the old wizard knew about _that_. The Headmaster's love for Muggle sweets was infamous, so it shouldn't be surprising that he decided to introduce some to Hogwarts. But really, must he choose something designed to resemble tobacco? The last time he checked, smoking wasn't something schools encouraged. But then…the outward appearance of Spanish Gold did look more like worms to Harry's opinion: no wonder Cedric was so intrigued.

Curious as to what others' receptions might be, Harry looked around the table. Everyone else seemed to shun away from the dish – except… Harry frowned as he realized that Quirrell was devouring the sweet, although seeing his facial expression, he didn't enjoy it as much as his action ought to indicate. _How…Why…_ Quirrell didn't look like the type who would have much to do with Muggles, if his smelly turban was anything to come by…turban…

Harry Potter choked most royally as a suspicion came to his mind. No, no, no, no. This could not, _must_ not be true!

::_But the itch of your scar was the strongest when you were around him_, :: a small voice pointed out.

_But Voldemort would never share a body with anybody, he was too proud for that._

::_If he had to drink unicorn blood, I don't think he had much choice._::

"No," Harry forcefully shut the voice up. He would not believe this, this –

::_He does wear a turban, and remember the night…?_::the voice added viciously before disappearing.

Turning, he saw half the table looking at him curiously, and realized that he had voiced the last word out loud. Cursing silently, Harry forced himself into a blush and mumbled, "Bit my tongue…"

* * *

"I'll see you, Harry," Neville said before they parted for their common rooms. School had resumed as if nothing had happened. Harry looked after his friend's back a little sadly; he knew they cared for him, yet he would never be able to be his real self and share everything with them. He couldn't drop his mask. Harry had gone on about life as well as he could, trying to put up an illusion that everything was okay. If anything, his friends actually thought he looked a little more cheerful after the holidays. Yet his life was anything but cheerful. 

Harry had done some extensive researches on souls and body-sharing spells since then. The signs were very, very subtle, yet they were there. Harry must admit that knowing Voldemort personally helped him a great deal in coming to the conclusion. But he just didn't understand why Dumbledore hadn't figured that out yet. Maybe not the other teachers, but surely that Headmaster who knew more or less what was going on around here would have known? Unless…

Harry felt himself sweat as another dreadful realization dawned on him. It all made sense now…how he, a mere first year, was able to grasp information about the stone and Dumbledore's tolerance of Quirrell. It was a trap. Dumbledore knew of Voldemort's desperate attempt to regain a body and decided to use it against the Dark Lord, probably placing some soul-shattering spells on the stone. _It was a trap._

Shivers ran down his spine as a fit of uncontrollable fear hit him. He must do something; he must warn Voldemort…_Wait a minute, since when had Voldemort's welfare become his concern again? _Harry tried to call forth the rage he commanded the night at the hospital wing and go back to avoiding Voldemort in peace, but his heart would not allow him to do so.

_But Voldemort wanted me dead; how was I supposed to warn him if I couldn't go near him without risking my neck? And why would he believe me?_ He protested weakly.

_::Would you then rather sit around and watch him fall?:: _

Not the blasted voice _again_! Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He heaved a sigh as his mind was made up. Maybe Snape was right; he should have been a rash Gryffindor. While Harry felt betrayed by Voldemort's treatment of him, he could not stand the thought of any harm coming upon the other man, either. He cringed inwardly as he thought of his suicidal plan to warn the Dark Lord; the irony of it not lost on him. Dark Lords weren't supposed to be vulnerable; they weren't supposed to be needing the help of little children they were trying to kill. _Damn you, Voldemort, why couldn't I just go hating you or at least ignoring you after all that; **what** have you done to me?_ Harry screamed silently in confusion and despair. But he did not allow himself to dwell on the emotions; he would have time to sort things out later, for now, he had a plan to carry out – and quickly.

Harry sat near the fire in the common room, deep in thought. The plan had sounded simple, but it was in fact quite difficult. It was not like he could just go up to Quirrell and say "Hey I know your little secret about your master sharing your body. By the way, did I tell that the stone was a trap?" The DADA professor would probably try to kill Harry faster than anything. And _that_ was actually the part Harry was least worried about. Harry had faith in himself to handle a Quirrell (especially since Voldemort would be there to hear reason), but how to approach Quirrell without being caught evaded him. Dumbledore probably kept a sharp eye on that professor-turned-traitor. And Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that _he_ was somehow a piece in the grand play of Dumbledore's as well – which meant that he probably was being watched carefully, too. How much did that calculating old man really know unsettled him. Harry had strong reasons to believe that the Invisibility cloak was not going to bring him very far when it came to Dumbledore, and who knew how many spies the Headmaster had in this bloody castle? The teachers, the paintings, the ghosts, possibly the students, too; anybody could be watching. Harry, for a fact, knew that his friends would no doubt run straight to Dumbledore should something happen, thinking it was for the "best." Harry really, really wished that his connection with Voldemort could have been stronger; that way he could just mentally send the warning. Sadly, even before Voldemort's fall, they never got to the level of Telepathy; and now it was even more weakened. Harry had been trying to send messages, or just a feeling of forbidding – only resulting in annoying headaches and nothing more.

And then there was this little problem of what to do _after_ he'd warned Quirrell. Harry had no idea of Voldemort's current condition…could he even live without someone to share his body? Quickly, Harry quelled his worries. Let Voldemort handle everything after that, he wasn't a Dark Lord for nothing. Harry would warn him of the dangers just to please his blasted conscious, and he would not aid the Dark Lord further – not that he actually needed to worry about that, as the other man seemed determined to end Harry's little life at any chance he got.

Harry massaged his temples as another thought-provoked headache threatened to rise. After failing to resume his train of thought, he decided a break would be welcoming. Sighing (yes, he does that a lot), he turned his gaze to his school books. It was such a fortunate thing that he was ahead in his year; otherwise he was sure to have failed miserably with the attention he was granting his school works. Now that he remembered it – "Hermione, when do the exams start again?"

"Harry! You are impossible! They start tomorrow; didn't you just get your schedule this morning? Honestly, how do you keep your grades is a wonder to me!"

Harry gave her a smile and slipped back into his thoughts just as she started another lecture about proper school attitudes. He smirked as Hermione went on; then it suddenly hit him that, in the past few weeks, he had been more like the Harry of Riddle Manor than anything, with his full Slytherin side employed in his grand scheme. He had been gathering information unnoticeably, focusing on his goal and neglecting useless obstacles, and, Merlin-forbid, even manipulating people. It was ironic how he could never escape from the side of himself that he so desperately wanted buried. He sighed and convinced himself that those were necessary measures at present and he would have to live with them.

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the Transfiguration classroom. The exams are finally over, and he had the whole afternoon for himself to plan on ways to communicate to Quirrell. As he walked into the Great Hall for lunch, he looked up at the High Table involuntarily and was surprised to see Dumbledore gone. Suspicious, he asked the Ravenclaw prefect about the Headmaster's whereabouts, and was confirmed that it was said that he left today for some Ministry business. 

Harry felt hope shine on him for the first time; there came his chance to approach Quirrell! How convenient of Dumbledore to be out of the way! _Convenient…_

No! Dumbledore was deliberately leading people into thinking that he was away; the trap was set, the game had started. He looked up again, Quirrell was no where in sight, either – probably preparing for the big move. Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, what to do? Perhaps he should warn a teacher of it and somehow alert Quirrell so that he would at least refrain from stealing the stone for now? Yes, it would be perfect, and it would not draw suspicion to Harry himself – especially if he had some brave Gryffindors to back him up.

It did not take long to convince Neville and Ron that the school, and the wizard community was in dire danger; Harry felt a little bad at playing his friends' trust and Gryffindor brashness, but it was not time for high morals. Thus, thirty minutes later, a very displease Professor Snape found himself cornered by three gasping boys.

"What is it? Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, that you deem so important as worthy of disrupting my peach with?"

"Sir…" Ron said breathlessly, "The Stone is in danger! Someone is trying to steal it!"

Whatever Snape had been expecting, it wasn't this. It was actually quite comical to see his jaw drop open if not for the serious circumstance. He shot Harry a sharp look, and said, "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but please be satisfied that it is perfectly safe in this school."

"But…" Ron was fuming now; he had never understood at the first place why Harry wanted to alert Snape out of all teachers, but the other boy had convinced him that the paranoid Potions Master was the most likely to take their story seriously. Oh how wrong they were! Snape was treating their warning as some childish dream-talk!

"However, I shall attempt to inform the Headmaster of this at once …For now, I must ask you to each take an oath that you would not whisper a word about the stone to anybody else."

Harry cursed himself with all the obscenities he knew. This was bad, very bad. Not only had he just wasted an hour, now he couldn't even warn Voldemort of his danger had he wanted to. He could careless if Snape informed Dumbledore or not, since that old man already knew. Yet the oath might proven fatal; as he knew there would be no way out of this. Snape was very clever, and refusing or attempting to fool the Potions Master would only result in larger disaster. Seeing no other choice, he took the oath grudgingly as the other two did and soon felt the magic bind him. Before leaving, though, he asked hopefully, "Sir, will you at least inform the staff of the possible danger?"

Snape looked at him, "Informing the staff will not do us any good at this point, and it would be Professor Dumbledore's decision anyhow."

Harry understood Snape's reasoning; if Voldemort was trying to steal the stone, it would be hopeless to try to stop him without Dumbledore. The protections were already set, so it was useless for the teachers to stay. And Snape might have his own suspicion about a certain staff member; Harry remember the looks he gave Quirrell.

Harry had never felt so helpless for a long time and would have loved to scream in frustration as he parted his worrying friends. Suddenly, he was attacked by a yet another strong wave of emotion rushing through his scar: anticipation…and delight… And at the same moment, heat surged through the ring on his finger.

Harry had, since that night of attack, suspected the ring to be a connection enhancer of some sort; probably would have worked had the Dark Lord not fall. For now though, Harry could only sense occasional mood change; it was just as useless as his scar. But this time it was enough; enough to indicate to Harry that Voldemort knew of Dumbledore's absence and that Voldemort was acting today – now.

Harry cursed under his breath and exited the Hall quickly; and here he thought he had all the time on earth for planning! He summoned his cloak and slipped it on; the cloak might be no good to Dumbledore, but it was enough to keep prying teachers/paintings at bay.

He practically ran to the third corridor that was warned of, and started searching for the right door by his sense. It was no difficult task, as he could almost feel magic packed behind the one on the end. He ran to the door, but stopped right before opening it. One never knew what could be behind, and it would be pointless to get himself killed before he could warn the Dark Lord.

Three roars greeted him as he pushed the door open; and Harry was ever so glad that he had his wand out as he quickly conjured a flute and started playing. The three-headed monster instantly fell into a deep sleep. Harry wiped the sweat away from his brows as he started looking for an entrance; reading does pay off sometimes – otherwise he was sure the dog would have caused him much more trouble. He soon found a trap door near the dog's right pawn. There was no way of climbing down, and only blackness greeted him. Harry ground his teeth; he would just have to jump down and see. Taking a deep breath, he jumped…

And fell. Cold air rushed past him, and finally he landed on something soft. Instantly his hand reached for his wand, ready for an attack. He could sense things moving in the dark, almost noiselessly. Looking down, he realized that something snake-like had been wrapping itself around his ankles. Rolling his eyes, he whispered a "Lumos." As the light shone, the plant instantly cringed away. Really, first a three-headed dog and then the Devil's Snare; it was a wonder that the teachers didn't realize that Dumbledore wasn't really serious about guarding the stone; any decent seventh-year student could have handled that, not to mention Death Eaters and Dark Lords.

After that little encounter, Harry rode a bloom with winged keys chasing behind him and hurried past a dead troll and a damaged chessboard, with his heart sinking all the while; it _had_ to be a trap.

Still staying alert, he pushed open what he hoped to be the last door; only to find himself in a room with a long table. On the table, bottles with various shapes and colors stood in a line. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, though, a purple fire sprang up behind him in the doorway, even as a black one did the same in the front. Harry almost roared in exasperation as he skimmed through the note besides the bottle; really, who gave clues to people who were trying to steal whatever they were guarding? And he had no time for little riddle-solving games!

He pointed his wand at himself and said, "_Corporalis Crystalllus_." It was risky as such a charm would not prevail against the most powerful magic fire; but judging from the other obstacles, Harry doubted that he needed to worry about _that_. And he was right; he walked through the fire unscathed.

A long corridor was in front of him, all that was left between him and Voldemort. He broke into a run as yet another emotion waved through his scar. Closer, he was getting closer, but not close enough. Quirrell could be getting the stone any moment; he was going to be too late - Harry fastened his steps, slid down the corridor, and pushed open the door –

Standing in the middle of the room was Quirrell, contemplating the Mirror of Erised. Another familiar tingle washed over Harry; he opened his mouth to speak, but finding the emotions choking him. "Voldemort…" he finally managed, careful that his voice was void of emotions, "Stay away from the…_it_." _If only you knew why I am doing this…_

Quirrell seemed absolutely horrified that Harry knew of his little secret, this was when a deep, silky voice that was all too familiar spoke up, "Let me speak to him…face to face…"

Quirrell seemed even more horrified at the notion if possible, yet he obeyed the command and started unwrapping his turban and turning slowly on the spot.

Lord Voldemort opened his ruby red eyes as he turned to face the boy, his facial expression unreadable (not that it was easy to read emotions from a snake-like face, anyhow). He watched with interest as a thousand emotions flashed across Harry's face; so his little protégé was still unable to put on a mask in front of him. "Harry…" he hissed.

"Don't you dare to touch…" Harry shouted again, and was cut shut involuntarily. _Damn the oath!_

"You know very well that I must regain a body."

"I can't allow you to do that…so many more people will die… get hurt!"

"So you will attempt to stop me then, Harry?" Voldemort's tone was flat and emotionless; it was hard to tell whether he was angry, disappointed, or amused.

"Professor Dumbledore will not be gone for long!" _This is the truth, damn you!_

Voldemort seemed to contemplate that fact for a while, then his gaze fell back on Harry, "Well, then we really should hurry up. Harry, there's much I wish to discuss about, yet now is hardly the right time. Stun him."

As if on cure, Quirrell started moving towards Harry, holding out his wand.

Harry's breath came in ragged gags as he realized the coming of the inevitable. Should he try to out-curse the other man? He really didn't stand a very good chance of winning. Suddenly, an idea flashed across his mind; he bit his lips in determination. He would take the Stone and the curse with it if he must; this was the only way. Besides, his life was screwed as it was, so why didn't he just do a favor for the Dark Lord and save him the trouble of killing him later?

_::Or maybe you are just running away from the choice you have to make by running away from life – you **have** to pick a side…He'll never forgive himself if you died for him::_ another voice suggested. But it was a mere second before Harry shut it up, however rational it might have sounded – Voldemort cared nothing about him, and it was the only choice.

Harry threw himself at Quirrell and fought tooth and nail. His crude, Muggle method seemed to throw Quirrell off for a moment. And that was all Harry gambled on; he broke free and ran towards the Mirror. His plan was going to work; he was going to take the stone instead of Voldemort.

Harry took in a deep breath and looked into the Mirror. _What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment is to find the Stone before Voldie does. Please let me have it. _

His reflection changed; it smiled sadly but determinedly at him. Solemnly, it put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. After giving Harry another little nod, it put the Stone back in its pocket – and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket.

Already Harry could feel the magic at work, heat thrashed through his body. Struggling to keep himself on his feet, he stumbled away from Quirrell as the other tried to capture him again and dodged a stunning curse.

Harry's eyes betrayed a glimpse of longing and sadness as he gave Voldemort – now facing him – one last look; their gaze held for a brief moment, and for a split second Harry thought he saw true fear flash through the ruby eyes of the other. Voldemort was barking orders to Quirrell, but Harry heard none of it. A strange ringing was in his ears, and his eyes were blinded by a white-hot pain. The full force of the curse finally hit, threatening to rip his soul apart from his body and grind it to pieces. And the pain was unimaginable. Harry felt himself open his mouth to scream in agony, and hot tears ran down his face. No, he wanted to fight the curse no more; let it all end…the pain…the suffering…

Before his soul was about to depart and that he was finally slipped into the bliss of darkness, Harry felt a cool presence wrap itself around him – the pain immediately lessened. _Yes,_ Harry felt his lips part into a small smile, _the welcoming gauze of death_. But the pain was fighting back, and the presence around him was wavering. Harry frowned; and, unconsciously, his power reached for the presence, holding it in place… until all dissolved into darkness.

Only that, for him, there would be no afterworld.

* * *

**Crissy Potter: **I'm so sorry I missed your name last time! Somehow I did not receive a mail alert for your review (I swear!), so it was not until when I decided to give my already over-sized head a proper swell and went to look over my own story's review page did I discover your wonderful review.Thank you so much for reviewing!

**Malile:** Thanks!

**Shadowface:** Don't worry, Harry will never be the good boy of Dumbledore, even if he doesn't support Voldie - yet.

**Sadisticfreak5290/ xxlostdreamerxz:** Thank you! blushes I dunno…I think it will most likely be a LV/HP slash, mainly b/c I see no other way to place their relationship here. It is unlikely that Voldemort would tolerate someone to share his power if they were just friends. Also, I don't think Voldie is an heir-person, seeing how he always seeks immortality. (Not that Harry would be a suitable heir in this story anyway…and I don't think it's likely that Voldemort'd have some kind of parental instincts kicking in and just keep Harry as his little protégé forever) Then, I don't really want Harry to serve Voldie, either; I want them to be equal. So it really doesn't leave me much options. But…as I suck at writing anything graphical, it should be pretty mild. And it shouldn't take too much focus of the story, oh and right now he's only 11 and his feelings for Voldie are more like that of child to an understanding uncle or something like that. All in all, there is a long way to go before it becomes a slash.

**Angel Lain:** Heehee, thank you! I feel bad for Harry and Voldemort, too; I really do (esp. since I know what's in store for them)!

**Cat:** Thank you!

**Evil Enchantress:** Yes, Harry's meeting Voldemort in this chapter, but it was rather brief and er…unfortunate

**DARKMARK33LV:** Thank you! Yes, as you will see, the ring has something to do with Voldemort.

**Darkdragonlover2000: **heehee, we'll see…

**Maryna:** Thank you! I think this chapter explains the ring's use a little more; and it shall be further explained as the story goes on. And, yeah, Nagini is a little rash, but she is a good snake most of the time.

**HoshiHikari4ever: **Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

**Joanna :** Thanks!


	8. Chapter 7: Recovery

**Choice – Chapter 7: Recovery**

The boy smiled as the comforting presence wrapped itself around him, making him feel truly peaceful for the first time in his life. He snuggled into it even as it took leave. The boy frowned as it departed and took him back to the not-so-smooth path called life once more. No, he didn't want to go back, to face the pain and agony; he must find a way out...

Bright emerald eyes opened in confusion as a raven haired little boy regained consciousness. Dimly, he was aware of the voices speaking around him. "...we can't tell until he wakes up...suffering from a near soul ripping...memory damage...magic..." The voice was somehow familiar, but he couldn't really make out the meaning of what was being spoke. He stole the speaker a look; she was a stout woman with a kind face. Right now, she was talking to a very, very old man with snow-white beards and half-moon glasses. The blue eyes of the old man met Harry's emerald ones then, and the man gave him a smile, "Ah, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

_Back..._the boy's tired brain tried to catch up. "P-Professor Dumbledore?" he asked uncertainly, the name falling out of nowhere, but it felt right.

Dumbledore smiled again, "Yes, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"I…I guess fine…what happened? I can't seem to quite…" Harry let his voice fell as bang of panic hit him. Did he remember anything? Somehow he knew Dumbledore was talking to him when he said "Harry," but everything else was a blur.

"Can you remember anything?" Dumbledore asked as levelly as possible, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

Harry tilted his head, "Yes, a little. I mean, I know I'm Harry, Harry Potter actually. And…" he frowned and the information suddenly came to him, "I'm a wizard! This is Hogwarts…my school."

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, that is quite correct, Harry. You just suffered from a near-death ordeal for something very brave you did..."

"Albus! Is it wise to..." the stout woman cut in. The old man nodded reassuringly and spoke, "I'll make it short, Poppy; and I'm sure young Harry has a right to know what happened to him." Harry nodded eagerly at that, and the woman left them, muttering angrily under her breath.

Turning back to Harry, Dumbledore continued in a slightly more grave tone, "Harry, do you remember Sirius, or Remus?" The names struck something; they felt safe. Harry nodded.

"Good," Dumbledore looked slightly more cheerful, "As you know, they're your guardians. This is your first year at Hogwarts, the end of the first year, more precisely. And I dare say you are quite a brilliant student here. Near the end of term, you came to the knowledge that the Philosopher's Stone was being guarded at Hogwarts, and that Voldemort was after it."

"Voldemort?" The name sounded...familiar. All sorts of emotions clogged up in his chest at the mention of it.

"Yes, Voldemort. He is the Dark Lord, murderer of your parents and many other innocents, the darkest of wizards. He was defeated three years ago, deprived of a body; and he was trying to return to power through the Stone."

Somehow Harry felt uncomfortable as Dumbledore spoke of the other wizard; he supposed that it shouldn't be surprising, since it was his parents' murderer they were talking about. "W-what happened next, sir?" he croaked a question.

"You tried to stop him and got the stone through your bravery and trueness. But Voldemort sent a lethal curse at you before I could stop him."

"You were there?"

"Thanks to you, Professor Snape informed me of the danger after you left, and I came just in time."

"What about the stone then?"

"Alas, I'm afraid the Stone had been destroyed due to the force of that curse. It was really a wonder that you survived it; for a fearful moment I thought you might not make it."

Harry looked thoughtful, then, in a small voice, he asked, "What was the curse that he sent me?"

"A soul-ripping curse. I believe that he was trying to claim your body. But your mother's love saved you, thus his tainted soul couldn't stay in your body."

"My mother?"

"Yes, you see, she died at the hands of that man. And her blessing to you prevented him from robbing you of what she borne. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love." the man half-closed his eyes sagely.

Harry winced; he somehow...wanted to refute the other man's words. _Silly_, he told himself, _he was the revered Albus Dumbledore – yes, now that he remembered more, Dumbledore was a highly respected man_! And why would Dumbledore lie to him? Everything the old man said so far sounded logical, what position was he in to doubt his words?

"What happened to Voldemort then? Is he..."

"Sadly, no. Being not fully human also makes it almost impossible to kill him. However, I do believe he is severely weakened and that we shall not hear from him soon."

The boy nodded, letting the information sink in. Dumbledore spoke up again after he was done brooding, "Harry, what you did was a very brave thing; things could turn out quite...differently if you had not interfered." That was true. He didn't quite expect the boy to go this far, challenging his former master personally. Although Harry took the Stone and unwittingly saved the Dark Lord, Tom did leave Quirrell's body and go for the boy. Probably too blinded byhis desire to return to power to notice the curse at force...what exactly happened after that deluded even he himself. By all means they should both be...gone, worse than dead, erased from existence. He had told the boy it was because of his mother's love; but yet even love could not have been strong enough to withstand that curse, alone. Perhaps Tom did retain more powers than he'd previously thought? Dumbledore had his own suspicions. Thechild in front of him was undoubtedly a very important piece; he had learned of the boy's er, interesting past with the Dark Lord. He knewHarry must be of something when he discovered that Tom had kept him as his little slave. The Dark Lord's desperate attempts to kill the boy once he fell out of control also confirmed Harry's importance. Luckily, as far as he could tell, Harry's principles were that of light, even if he used to harbor some kind thought towards the Dark Lord. And the present situation should help him stand more firmly on the light side. The boy's injuries _were_ caused by Voldemort in a way; a little twisting of truth was for his best. Now thatHarry would only connect Voldemort with hatred, he was surely to be a valuable supporter for the right cause(he would suffer some setbacks in his magic due to this incident, but as far ashewas concerned,Harry would recover well enough to become the powerful wizard the Headmaster expected him to be).

For the first time a glint of triumph flashed through his eyes. He replaced it with benevolence as soon as it came, although it was more of a reflex than concern; even grown men could not quite detect his emotions, not to mention a confused, near-sighted child without his glasses.

"I shall assure your friends of your well-being, Harry. And you probably should go back to rest, or Poppy will have me thrown out. Before you do that, however, you have two visitors." Winking, he gave Harry his glasses and left the room.

Harry stared down at the glasses, confused. His vision was perfectly fine, so why did he need glasses? Yet somehow he could recall memories of himself with glasses; in fact, he seemed to be always with his glasses. Shrugging, he put them on and the world swirled around him. Quickly putting them down again he decided to worry about this later. Soft footsteps told him of others' presence; he raised his head to find two men approaching him. Instantly he knew it was Sirius and Remus. He gulped as he saw Sirius' face; he didn't need his full-memory to know what was coming.

Sirius began, his voice dangerously low, "Let's see, you strode into the Forbidden Forest, stunned a troll, figured out that the Philosopher's Stone was being guarded in Hogwarts, went after the Dark Lord single-handedly, and almost got you self killed...is that it?"

Harry nodded sheepishly, "I..."

"Your parents and we can't be more proud of you."

Harry stared...did he just say... "But...aren't you going to tell me off for putting myself in danger and all?"

Sirius beamed, "You really gave us a fright. And if you scare us like this a second time…" He let his voice sank dangerously; then, satisfied with its effects, he continued, "But we _are_ proud of you. What you did was a very brave thing, Harry. Although I must say that it is a rather Gryffindor trait; are you sure Ravenclaw was right for you?"

Harry smiled back too; it felt very good, to hear that his parents and guardians were proud of him. _And it would be even better if _he_ was proud of him, too._ Uh…he? Where did that come from? Harry blinked, confused. As far as he could remember, there's no other family figure in his life…perhaps he meant Dumbledore then? Somehow that answer didn't seem right.

"Harry," Remus spoke up, "We'll leave you to rest now. Poppy wouldn't let you leave the hospital wing until tomorrow, so we'll be going home then."

"Home? Has school ended already?" Harry asked as he suddenly remembered.

"Yes, Harry. It ended three days ago. I must say that your friends were terribly upset having to leave before they were assured that you were okay. So I'd advice you start writing to them soon."

Harry winced; his friends were sure to be mad at him for not asking them to go with him. Why didn't he though? He sounded pretty close to them and all…maybe he didn't want to endanger them? That would be a plausible answer for now. Still, somehow Harry just didn't feel like he would be the kind of person to charge after dangerous Dark Lords all alone and unprepared. Sighing, he decided to give his sore head a break; he would have the summer to recover. He nodded and reassured the men that he were alright before they left the hospital wing. A small smile crept on his mouth as he heard the door close softly. Home, he would be home soon.

* * *

Silently, a shadow gild over the forest floor. After some hesitation, it settled for a relatively comfortable corner, on top of some dry, fallen leaves. Every second of existence was suffering and pain; yet it held on, a mere step away from death. Any beings with a lesser will would have given up, dissolved into the nothingness. But then, he never lacked will. He had forced himself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist… 

After all, despite the bitter failure of his plan, he did manage to evade death – for a second time. But it had been close, very close. Dumbledore must have been desperate to rid the world of him, risking his own friend, Flamel's, life and the Philosopher's stone. He growled in distaste (it being one of the few things he was currently able to do) as he thought of the meddling old fool.

Life had not been kind to him last year, but then when had it ever been? Quirrell had cowered and begged for mercy as he sent seething pain through that useless man's body in his rage when he found out that Black and Lupin had been the ones to raise Harry for the last four years. And, when he was finally near Harry again, the boy had changed – not that he hadn't expected it, considering the kind of corrupting influences Harry had to put up with. How it frustrated him that their connection through Harry's scar had been so weak, and that the stupid boy never even attempted to properly use the ring he gave him! (Yes, he could feel the boy's pathetic attempts near the end of term; but he was absorbed in his plan and anticipation to return to full power then.)

Not that he ever worried about Harry being part of the Light, though. Harry was his and his alone, and the boy would realize that too, in due time. The Light would not do for Harry, that he was sure. Any misunderstanding would be easy to clean up in a later time, he mused. Yet it could have saved him so much trouble had Harry… How in Merlin's name did Harry fall into the hands of Black anyway? He knew his protégé; he should have followed his instructions when he failed to return. _What went wrong four years ago, Harry?_ He asked softly. _Well, everything had gone wrong four years ago_, an annoying voice in his mind spoke up.

Harry had still puzzled him, though. On the rare occasions when he was able to sense the other's emotions, they usually came in confused knots. He supposed their rather violent encounters contributed to the fact as well. Nagini shall be punished accordingly once he returned power, although he'd probably spare her life in light of her long years of servitude – not that killing snakes brought him much satisfaction anyways. The troll incident had purely been an – accident. It was served to be a diversion and a test to see how well-guarded the Stone was. Yet, what kind of cheek did Harry have to even think that _he_ would want to murder the boy ( that is – apart from his first try eleven years ago), or let any harm befall him for that matter?

Then, Harry surprised him yet again by confronting him in front of the Mirror. It was not like Harry to put himself in such danger foolishly, and the message he was trying to convey was rather odd. Then it dawned on him that the other was actually trying to warn him! The thought had him amused then, and it did show that Harry still cared for him despite the boy's vehement claims of undying repulsion and hatred, how intriguing.

Not that he was unaware of the trap; he had, in fact, expected curses of some kind to be placed upon the Stone. And that was where Quirrell came into play; he had planned on using that pathetic excuse of a wizard as the bait for the curse, and then let whatever fate was to befall him take care of that man, all while he himself would regain power.

Yet he did not expect _the_ Soul-Shattering Curse.

It seemed that the old Headmaster was not that high and noble after all; as he was sure the other man was aware that once activated, the force of the curse would destroy the stone, and eventually kill its maker, Flamel, as well. And that was definitely _not_ a curse of the Light. It was like the Unforgivables, yet far more powerful. However it was not outlawed as few people knew of it, and even fewer were powerful enough to cast it.

And he did not expect Harry to take the curse for him.

Realization came to him as their eyes met, and he had felt true fear such as he hadn't felt in a long, long time. (No, not even when that blasted _Avada Kedavra_ hit him did he experience such fear.) For a split second, he thought of the worst. Even as he left the safety of Quirrell's body and joined Harry's soul in his desperate attempt to hold it together, he knew in his weakened state he was not strong enough to withstand the force of the curse; it was going to consume them both. And then something wondrous happened; Harry's power awoke. While he may have saved Harry at the beginning, in the end, it was Harry's power that held them together.

_Ah…such power…_Lord Voldemort thought appreciatively. _Dumbledore, you had no idea what you now held in your hands, and I would make sure that you do not keep it for long._ For only him would be able to help the boy grow into his own power, only he would help the boy to come to appreciate it. Harry would be in a very dangerous situation indeed if any other wizard learned of this; the weak had always had an irrational fear for those who were more powerful.

The thought of Harry definitely put him in a better mood; sweet promises of the future had always helped him through the most trying and forlorn moments. For now though… the shadow stirred, pushing thoughts of the boy aside as it rose noiselessly; he could hear soft sounds of pawns, and he had small animals to capture and possess.

* * *

When Harry awoke, he could tell it was late in the morning, possibly even near noon. Last night was the first time he had slept in his own, comfortable bed of Black Manor since the start of term. He was grateful that Remus and Sirius had let him sleep in; he hadn't had such peaceful sleep for a long time. 

He rubbed his eyes and felt decidedly better. The memories and pieces of life were slowly coming together; it seemed that his fear of losing memories permanently was ill-funded. The hint of the cool presence he experienced days before greatly improved his mood as well. He had thought it was gone then; now it seemed that the presence, whatever it was, left a faint trace of itself in Harry. It was very faint, thus making it almost impossible to feel it; yet Harry knew it was there, and the knowledge calmed him a great deal for some strange reason.

Sitting up, he regarded his glasses. Well he surely did not need them now, although he was too tired to explaine the previous day. He supposed he could just throw them out and inform his gudians of that, but something in him called for disguising his new-found good sight. Harry really couldn't think of any situation that would require him to "surprise his enemy" so to speak as his inner voice has said, but he decided to heed the advise anyway. Knocking out the glasses, he put the spectacles on; he would have to find out how to make one that wouldn't affect his visions later on.

He skipped down the stairs, suddenly very aware of his hunger. Of course he could just call a house-elf up for some food, but he wanted to be with Remus when he ate; Sirius probably had already gone to work.

Surely, the other man was standing near the door, probably having already anticipated Harry's presence. However, in his hands he held an official-looking letter, and his brows were furrowed.

"Remus?" The werewolf looked up at the sound, he gave Harry a gentle smile, "Finally up, Sleepyhead?"

Harry snorted, "What is the letter about, Remus?"

Remus waved his hand, "It's nothing…some Ministry business… I'm sure you must be hungry by now, so why don't we start eating?"

All thoughts of questions were pushed away from Harry's mind at the mention of food; besides, if it were anything serious, surely Remus would have told him. "I'm surprised that you haven't had your breakfast yet, either," he remarked as he helped himself with some sausages.

"It's lunch for me," Lupin explained. "How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked in a more serious tone, "Albus and Poppy said that the curse might have some lingering effects..."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my memories were all fuzz at first, but it's better now. It is nothing long-term; I think I was just in a shock or something. Being home definitely has helped me to remember, but I still feel as if there are big chunks missing, though. Maybe you could help me after we eat?"

A while later found them settled comfortably on the big couch in the living room, with Harry's books, other possessions, and albums around them. Harry stared at the smiling face of his parents, "Remus, tell me about my parents again."

"Harry?"

"I know I wouldn't have remembered them anyway…since they were killed when I was one. But I want to hear things about them, anything; I want to get to know them. I wonder what stopped me before this, but you must tell me some of their stories."

Clearing his throat, Lupin started uncertainly, "Well…As you know, you father, Sirius, Peter, (his voice quivered a little at his dead friend's name; Peter's brutal death was enough to chill anyone's bones) and I were best friends…" he then proceeded on to tell Harry some of their silly pranks and more gloomy adventures after Hogwarts. Harry had listened eagerly, capturing every of his word. Those were fascinating tales for him, and he couldn't wait for more. "What about my mother, then?"

Remus' eyes shone with a strange light, he hesitated before he spoke, "Well, your mother was a very remarkable witch…she always saw the good in people, no matter what…such a gentle being…You might look like a carbon copy of James, but you surely act more like Lily. She was no big bookworm, but she made sure that she excelled at her studies."

Harry found his mouth curl into a smile as he listened; again he wondered why he seemed to be purposefully avoiding getting to know his parents before now. Yet in all his happiness and contentedness, the hollow feeling in his chest still refused to go away. Sighing, he asked the dreaded question, "Remus, what happened to me before I was eight? How come everything is blank whenever I tried to remember anything before that?" He didn't mention that attempts to regain his memory from that time period also gave him a sense of dread, as if he was almost reluctant to remember. Whatever happened, it mustn't be good. Yet he supposed he would have to face his past, if he wanted to ever get rid of that irrational fear.

Remus paled considerably at the question, he stroke Harry's hair comfortingly. "Well, Harry…it, it was bad. You were kept by Voldemort –"

"What? But I thought he killed my parents and tried to kill me…"

"Ahem...that is true, Harry. But apparently Voldemort kept the truth from you and kept you as a slave of his. Albus and we had been pondering over the fact ever since we discovered you; and for now it seems that Voldemort wanted to use your power to his advantage…you do have great potentials, Harry." He squeezed the little boy's hands reassuringly, remembering the withdrawn little thing he had been when he first came to them. He was suddenly very worried; he had thought it would be best for Harry to know his own past, yet perhaps shielding the boy from _that_ part would have been wiser? What if Harry turned back to what he was like four years ago? He had made so much progress...

"I see." Harry's voice was surprisingly calm. He knew Remus had left out more unpleasant things from the way the older man talked. Yet it wasn't what he was dreading; somehow he had been expecting…something else, and whatever happened was long over, after all. Now that he knew all there was to know about his past, surely he could go on living contentedly, and leaving the past behind. "I'm fine, Remus," he added when the other man continued to look at him worriedly, "Well, why don't you tell me more about..."

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Shadowface: **Thanks! I don't usually like light Harry's all that much, either.

**Lady Phasma: **Thank you! And I agree with that.

**Aleclovemax: **Thanks! Here we go!

**NatalieJ: **Oh I really appreciate your pointing out all those little mistakes for me! It frustrates me so that no matter how hard I look over my fic, I still leave lots of mistakes in there. Argghhh…English grammar _is_ very complex, lol. And yeah there was supposed to be a line before that paragraph, indicating a change in time frame.

**Darkdragonlover2000: **Heehee, thank you I think this is more of a "gray" Harry for now.

**Darkmark33LV: **Thank you! Yes, real life can really get in the way sometimes.

**Aryth: **Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. Here is the update.

**Borne-shadow-childe: **Thank you! Hmm…my second year is quite different from the cannon; and I'm not sure as of yet whether to include the dueling club or not. I like the idea of Harry having a snake, though….we shall see.

**HoshiHikari4ever: **Thanks! And sorry if you wanted Voldie to return…well, I guess fate just doesn't like him and he'll have to wait a little longer. Besides, Harry needs to grow up a bit!

**Evil Enchantress: **Thanks, and sorry for the little cliffy You'll see some of Voldie's thoughts in here, as I dedicated a part of a chapter to him alone for the first time.

**Crissy Potter: **Thank you! I'll try my best to keep it up.

**Shea Loner: **Thanks for reviewing.


	9. Chapter 8: Puzzles

_::: ::: parseltongue...sorry but I can't seem to get other symbols to work on ff. net_

* * *

**Choice – Chapter 8: Puzzles**

Harry looked at the fire space apprehensively; his friends would come anytime now. And, as if on cue, the fire roared, and out stumbled Hermione and Neville. "Harry!" Hermione called happily and launched herself at him. Then, in a more menacing tone, she asked, "What _were_ you thinking? We were _so_ worried; I can't believe that you didn't tell _me_ about the Stone!"

"Ahem… I'll leave you kids alone now; have fun." Snickering, Remus retreated from the room, ignoring Harry's glares.

After explaining again and again that he could only find Ron and Neville at the time and there was no time to waste, Hermione was finally somewhat pacified. "Still, you could have gotten yourself killed…I can't believe you went charging after You-Know-Who just like that."

"I am surprised, too," Harry mumbled, "Well, how's your summer been? And where is Ron?"

"Ron's family are visiting in Egypt, you should get an owl from him soon. Well, my summer's been the usual; I finished all my homework… (Neville winced) but I wish I had more books to read, though, you know how hard it is to get my hands on wizarding books at home with my parents being Muggles and all."

Harry nodded in understanding, "Well, you can always borrow some books from here, I'm sure Sirius wouldn't mind."

"Really? That would be wonderful!" Hermione's eyes lit up. Even Neville looked a little excited at the mention of Sirius' name; he asked shyly, "Harry, when will Mr. Black be back from Ministry business? Can I, er, meet him sometime?"

"Sirius should be back in a week or so…just don't let him hear that he had little fans of his own; imagine what this can do to his already over-large head."

Next two hours were spent in the library, with Hermione absorbed in one book after another. When she was finally done picking, she had an armful. "I wish we could do magic in summer, I could really use a shrinking charm," she murmured contentedly.

Harry and Neville looked at each other. "Well, Hermione, actually, you can," Harry told her.

"What? But I thought…"

"Well," Neville spoke up, "I know this is not fair, but most of the long-standing wizard families have many protection charms around their houses or manors. This is especially true with pure-blood families like Blacks…so, er, our under-age magic is sort of shielded from Ministry detection when we are in the manor."

"Oh…" Hermione said, not completely convinced. She cautiously uttered the timed shrinking charm, and waited. No owl from the Ministry came. She let go of the breath she was holding, "How nice! Just imagine all the practice spells we can do!"

"It's summer, Hermione!" Neville whined.

"Hey, actually it's not that bad an idea. I hadn't been able to touch my wand for weeks, with Sirius and Remus treating me like a glass doll and all. I really want to test my magic ability, since Madam Pomfery warned that there might be some setbacks on my magic because of that curse," Harry said.

"Are you sure you're up to it? Please be careful, maybe you should try a minor one first," his friends looked a bit worried.

"I know…I'm thinking of the levitation spell we learned beginning of the year." Harry took out his wand; cautiously pointing his wand at a book, he uttered the incarnation, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

As soon as the spell left his mouth, Harry knew something was wrong. When he first touched his wand, there was no warm recognition; yet he had thought it was because of the fact he hadn't used his wand for a while. But right now he could feel outright repulsion as sparks flew and the book remained untouched. He cried out in surprise when he received the shocks and dropped his wand. Neville and Hermione were on him in a second, alarms on their faces, "Are you alright? We shouldn't have let you try magic so soon…"

"I'm alright, really…but it's strange," Harry picked up his wand and looked at it closely, "It is almost as if my wand doesn't recognize me anymore…"

"But that's not possible… And even if your wand really doesn't recognize you, it should be no different than using another's wand..." Hermione's brows furrowed as she considered the matter.

"Well, I guess I'm just still worn from the attack," Harry suggested and was pleased to see that she bought the explanation. He himself wasn't so convinced, though; and he would have to look things up.

* * *

Harry threw the book down in exasperation. He had gone back to the library as soon as his friends left, yet he was no closer in his research. He had tried to use spells twice after the levitation charm – with progressively worse results. So now he had a throbbing headache and no more idea of what might have caused this turn of events. One thing was sure, though, that he was not going to be able to use his wand for a while. This greatly frustrated him; without a working wand in the wizarding world could be quite dangerous. Perhaps he should borrow one of those extra wands of Sirius or Remus? Well, they would sure make a big fuss of it once they learned of this. Thus Harry had decided to ask for their help when Sirius returned home next week if he still hadn't found a cure by then. Meanwhile, though, it seemed that he would have to resort to reading and researching. 

Yet however much he enjoyed reading, Harry had had enough with books when he put down the heavy dome he was reading. It was an ancient text and was written in a very dry tone with many unfamiliar words. He had come across many recorded incidents where wands had malfunctioned and the ways to deal with them – yet his many tires resulted only in electric shocks. Obviously his wasn't any of the situations described in the books so far. This was really getting on his nerves; besides, he desperately wanted to check his magic; something had felt different ever since that incident with the Dark Lord. And he wanted to know why.

Suddenly his eyes lit up as he thought of an idea. He ran back to his room, searched frantically through his drawers, and finally found what he was looking for. The practice wand he used when he was much younger. It was rather small, and held much less power than a real wand. However, it should fit his purpose now. Cautiously he held it and whispered the levitation spell again – yet another shock made him drop the wand. Harry suddenly had the unpleasant thought that maybe _all_ the wands were going to reject him.

Defeated, Harry put the wand away once again and decided to take a break. Black Manor had an excellent library, and if he couldn't find any book here, he could only think of about four other places in Britain that might have the right book – none of which was accessible for him right now. _Four other places?_ Harry often wondered how on earth did he gain all those knowledge flooding out of his mind when he couldn't even seem to remember simple facts of his own life.

Yes, he had come to the conclusion that he never really did remember his past before he was eight. He knew the events that happened, or rather the events Remus had told him. But knowing was not remembering: he associated that time period with words, yet no feelings backed those up. What was more disturbing was that Harry felt that he was almost afraid to remember. Many a time something was triggered and he felt himself on the verge of remembering; yet he had always panicked and backed down. His past was surely not pleasant, judging by Remus' words, but how terrible could it be that he purposely wanted to forget it?

Harry rubbed his temples, how did he end up thinking about his memory problem _again_? He was supposed to be finding out solutions about his wand for Merlin's sake! And hadn't he told himself countless times already that it didn't matter that he couldn't remember? He knew the important parts and was spared the horror of the true memories, what more could he possibly ask for?

Feeling vaguely hungry, Harry looked up and found it was time for dinner. Wondering why hadn't Remus sent a house elf for him already, he went downstairs. An empty room greeted him. Food was placed carefully on the table, yet there was no Remus in sight.

Harry frowned; it wasn't like Remus at all. "Toddy?" he called for the head house elf.

With a pop Toddy appeared out of thin air, he bowed eagerly and asked, "Harry, sir, called Toddy?"

"Where is Remus?"

"Master Lupin had business to attend to, sir. Master Lupin said Tobby is to look after young Master," the elf replied, not without a tad of pride that he was entrusted with such a task.

Harry reassured the over-zealous elf that he could look after himself indeed and managed to send it away. Something fishy was going on; Remus was acting most strangely. The older man rarely left Harry all by himself in the Manor, even though Harry had shown himself more than capable of staying out of trouble. Besides, Harry had this nagging feeling that Remus was hiding something, both from him and Sirius. Harry pondered the matter as he finished eating. Perhaps he could use the opportunity to do some more outside research? A quick trip to Diagon Alley definitely wouldn't hurt; he had three more hours before the stores close, and he was sure Mr. Ollivander would know what to do with his wand. Plus this way he could fix his wand problem without Remus and Sirius knowing. Yes, the plan looked wonderful indeed.

That was, of course, before an unexpected smoke made him choke out his destination and his finding himself came crushing down onto some cold stone floor. Harry quickly rolled into a corner and kept perfectly still despite being temporarily disoriented; he could tell he was in an unfamiliar place, and he had no intention of being discovered in his current state.

After his head stopped spinning, he cautiously looked around. He appeared to be in a dark, wizard shop of some sort (the light was too dim for him to see much else); yet he was definitely not in Diagon Alley – for the assortments on sale were obviously that of Dark Arts. This was not good, not good at all. Heck, he was probably at Knockturn Alley out of all places, a few hours before the sun set, unable to use his wand. Oh, this _really_ was not good; Sirius was going to skin him alive if he somehow manages to get out of this mess.

Harry supposed waiting in a corner of an unknown dark shop would not do. Yet without ways to disguise himself, it would hardly improve his present situation if he simply walked out of the shop. Defenseless children were easy targets at places like the Knockturn Alley.

"I wish I could just mutter _'lumos'_ and have a light!" he muttered under his breath. And "pop," a small light appeared on his finger tip. Harry almost yelled in surprise and hastily tried a "_nox_." The light disappeared as quickly as it came. Harry looked around the room and was relived that no one came. He looked down at his hands in puzzlement. _What, I found myself unable to use a wand, and all of a sudden I can do **wandless** magic?_

Deciding that he couldn't really complain about this turn of events and that he better get moving, Harry muttered an invisibility spell on himself and slipped out of the door. He still kept to the shadows just in case the spell failed and walked in what he hoped to be the way out of the alley. As he worked his way out, careful not to bump into other people, he heard an angry hiss, :::_Fool! :::_

Startled, Harry looked around; the hiss had a strange ring in it. No one was particularly near him at the time, and the two wizards on the other side of the road definitely weren't talking. Puzzled, Harry pricked his ears for anymore sound. And sound it came, all spoken with such venom that it was almost inhuman.

_:::Fool…traitor! I shall rip open their throats for Massster!:::_

Somehow Harry knew that the threat was for real and shuddered at the thought; he was definitely glad that it was not directed at _him_. He braced himself lower to the ground; the hissing had come from that general direction. To his surprise, he found a black, glowing snake sliding away into an unused small alley at his right. Getting over the initial shock that he could understand the snake language, Harry followed the snake as quietly as he could manage. He knew that he was only looking for trouble, yet something won over his Slytherin instinct and rational thought and drew him near to the alley. In his state he did not have time to ponder why he hadn't known his ability to understand snakes before now.

Two figures were standing in the end of the dead alley; there was no shop here, so whatever they were doing, it mustn't be good. Harry crawled closer.

"…are you sure we should talk about it here?" the man sounded a little apprehensive.

"I have already spelled the alley so that no one would think of entering it. And now is definitely the time to discuss this," the other man replied. His face was hidden in the hood, yet his silver eyes and his drawling voice gave him away. Lucius Malfoy! Harry could remember no account when he'd met the man, yet he was sure Malfoy was the hooded man. What puzzled him even more was that the name somehow sent an irrational fear down his spine. Malfoy proceeded to talk, "We are here to gather the necessary supplies, and after this, there would be no turning back. Are you sure that _he_ is…"

The other man sounded grave, "I had hoped that it were not true myself. But he is indeed beyond our reach now, Lucius. Didn't you say that he would only thank us for doing him this favor?"

There was a stretched silence, but Malfoy must have given a sigh of consent, for the two men proceeded to walking out of the alley. It was then the snake he heard earlier attacked the two men. For a moment Harry almost thought it had them, then, quicker than lightening, an unnatural green light struck the serpent and it fell down on the floor with a sickening "thud."

Malfoy put his wand back into his pocket almost gracefully; his voice however betrayed a slight hint of doubt, "A serpent? Do you think…"

"No, it is probably just a random snake, escaped out of a pet store," the other stranger replied smoothly, and they walked out of the alley without so much as a glance at the dead snake.

Harry stared at the snake, shocked. It all happened so sudden…and what were the other men up to? Breaking out of his trance, he realized the men were already out of the alley and hurried to catch up.

Apparently his good luck had run out, for he crushed into a man who happened to walk out of a store just as he made his turn. Harry kept perfectly still, hoping the other man would just let it go. Unfortunately for him, the man looked about suspiciously and muttered, "_Finite Incantatum!"_

Harry rolled away as his invisible charm was lifted and found himself face to face with one Potions Master. The shock was mutual.

"Mr. Potter! What on earth is a boy like you doing in Knockturn Alley, out of all places? I hardly think that mutt of your godfather would have allowed you to enter a place with so much _dark_ influence?"

"It was an accident…and as you can see, I was trying to make my way out of here without any disturbance…"

"Indeed…" Snape sneered, "Consider yourself lucky that you ran into me and not some lunatics that aren't so rare in this alley who attack everything that strikes them." However scathing his words maybe, he helped Harry up and placed an invisibility spell on the boy again. "Nice invisibility charm, though."

Harry was too shock over the fact that Snape had just made a compliment to speak. There was little hope of finding the Malfoy and the stranger now, so he let Snape guide him out of the gloomy place and flooed, this time correctly, back to Black Manor.

Harry just had time to hope that he'd found the manor still empty as the world around him span. He stumbled out of the fire place into a quiet sitting room. _Maybe the day wasn't so bad after all – _

"You better explain yourself, Harry. You really do," Remus said in a menacingly low tone. _Oh, hell,_ Harry winced, _this was going to be a very long day indeed…_

Harry considered his options and decided that he should probably skip the Malfoy part. When he finished his tale, he looked up at Remus, bracing himself for another stern speech.

Yet when the older man spoke, his voice was filled with self-reproach, "Harry, I shouldn't have left you alone at home. If I could've helped I wouldn't have… Knockturn Alley! Anything could have happened to you!" After checking Harry all over to make sure the boy was alright, he asked, "But why did you want to go to Diagon Alley all by yourself? You know I would have brought you there if you asked."

"I, well, had a little problem with my wand and I thought Mr. Ollivander'd be able to help me…I didn't want you guys get all worried you see…" seeing the other man's face, he quickly added, "It's really not that much of a problem, and I've got it under control now!" Remus opened his mouth to ask; Harry beat him to it, "But, Remus, where have_ you_ been? And don't tell me Ministry business again; I know you'd rather not have anything to do with it."

Remus seemed startled and a bit amused at the reversing of roles, yet when he spoke his voice was grave, "Harry, I... will you be okay if I were to move away?"

"What? Why?" Harry was dumbstruck. Remus was a wonderful wizard, but because of his werewolf statues, he hadn't been able to find a job since he graduated. Sirius had offered Remus a home at Black Manor, although Remus refused to live a life depended on anyone. Thus he helped Sirius with his Ministry works and did more than could be asked of him. In fact, Harry couldn't imagine a Sirius without Remus to deal with all those tiresome paper work. Black Manor had always been the second home for Remus, and Harry could not think of a day when Remus voluntarily asked to leave.

"No…I'm not moving away or anything…nothing is certain right now…it's just…" the older man seemed flustered despite his usual calm self.

Harry folded his arms and spoke in a tone faintly resembling that of Remus' earlier, "Remus, you have some explaining to do."

* * *

An hour later found both of them sitting on the balcony, swinging their legs and gazing into the night sky. 

"He'll know soon, you know," Harry pointed out, "He _does_ work for the Ministry, however oblivious he might be."

Remus sighed, "Yes, I know that."

"What are you going to do then? You can't just leave it to the last day…"

"Well, I suppose not. I…I knew the chances were slim but I thought I'd wait until after today's, er, interview. I thought…I _hoped_ that there might be a chance that I'd be deemed "safe." After all, I have been around the Ministry for a while now."

"I don't think those idiots would care to make an exception for you. How did those laws get passed anyways?"

"It is not passed yet, Harry – "

"Oh, come on, you know as well as I do that it is just a matter of announcing it to the public. They probably are doing it after they had already dealt with those 'dangerous creatures' so even if there are people who want to protest, it'd be too late."

Remus was startled to note the bitterness in Harry's voice, this definitely was not normal for an eleven-year old, "I'm sorry that you have to go through all this, Harry." He stroke Harry's hair gently.

"This is not your fault. If I ever find out who that Umbridge woman is…"

"You'll do nothing against her."

"Remus! Oh fine! But for Merlin's sake she wants to expel you out of the country or send you to camps! Like some animal!"

Remus flinched at the words and gave Harry a wry smile, "It's not that bad actually. I'd be with my kind, and I'll actually be doing something useful. I never had the heart to leave Britain, but now I have the chance to join the Society and try to promote magical creature's rights."

Harry knew the chance of promoting magical creature's right was slim, yet he refrained himself from voicing this and resorted to pouting instead. "Sirius will not just sit and let this happen, you know," he spoke again after a moment of silence.

"I know…but even his stubbornness cannot stop this from happening."

_

* * *

**Review Responses:** _

**Miss Blizzard: **Thank you for reviewing! You shall find out what happened to Peter in due time, heeheehee.

**Shadowface: **Thanks! Harry's memory loss actually wasn'tDD's doing this time. He simply took advantage of the situation.

**darkdragonlover2000: **Thanks! Harry probably will not end up being light, so don't worry. And yes, he does have a lot of things to worry about. Pity I'll have to wait for a while before I can bring Voldie back.

**Crissy Potter: **Thank you!

**sami1010220: **Thanks for reviewing! Here's the next chappie! I'll probably put most of the stuff in this one story instead of a story per year; otherwise the title wouldn't make much sense.

**Allyanna:** I'm glad you liked it! Thanks!

**A.Potter: **Thank you! Don't worry, Harry will get his memory back sometime this year - when he is ready to accept it

**ManicReversed:** Thanks! I like Lord Voldemort a lot, too, heehee.

**DARKMARK33LV: **Thank you! I figured for a fic about Harry and Voldie, the Dark Lord really makes far too little appearance in my fic. So I'll try to bring him up more from now on.

**HoshiHikari4ever:** Thanks for reviewing! Harry remember most of the things, but he doesn't remember anything to do with Voldemort.

**Mikito:** Thanks, here's the update!


	10. Chapter 9: Ginny

_A/N: I am really sorry for the delay, though I can't promise that the next chapter is going to come out sooner. But I'll have a break sometime next month, so I'd be able to work on this more then. _

* * *

**Choice – Chapter 9: Ginny**

"Merlin! Where did I put your ticket?" Sirius looked through his pockets frantically, the few bags in his arms wavering about precariously.

Harry sighed slightly and spoke in a soothing tone, "I've got it here, you gave it to me when we entered the platform, remember?" Sirius visibly relaxed and sputtered some apology, while he gathered Harry's stuff absent-mindedly.

Things had not been easy in the Black Manor. It took all of Remus' level-headedness and Harry's persuasion power to refrain Sirius from shouting to the Minister himself and quitting his job. They reasoned that as corrupt as the Ministry may be, the innocent people still needed Sirius' skill for protection. As much as Harry hated it, he had to admit that there wasn't much they could do besides making sure Remus got a comfortable home – that was, as comfortable as the circumstance would allow. They had received two letters from Remus since he left two days after Harry's birthday. The wizard had sounded very cheerful, yet it did not fool them. Knowing Remus, he was probably just trying to comfort them; it was just like him, always thinking of others first even when he himself was the victim. Harry massaged his temple slightly as he recalled the day Sirius found out:

_"REMUS!"_

_Harry winced as the whole manor shook. Okay, here came the explosion Remus and he had been waiting for. In a way, it was good, as Harry wouldn't need to pretend everything was alright while his heart ached for Remus. Everyday when Sirius left to work, they would wait in suspense until he returned. It seemed that today was finally the day. He sighed as he skipped down the stairs; oh, Remus really was going to owe him one for this._

_He arrived just in time to see a fuming Sirius glaring at his old friend, some paper in hand. "…how could you have not told me? I could have interfered! I will not let this happened to you. I –"_

_"Sirius! You are home!" Harry threw himself onto the startled man. "Oh…Harry…" Sirius seemed completely flustered, "I, I'm happy to be home too…I, we…"_

_"Do you need to discuss something with Remus?" Harry asked helpfully._

_"Yes! It's something very important, so, er, why don't you go play by yourself for a while, and we'll join you later?"_

_Harry pouted, "But I want to hear it if it's something important…I have a right to know too, you know."_

_"Well…" Sirius was visibly trying to calm himself down, "This…there is this ridiculous law that just got passed /pause to gnash teeth/…It, well, it's really bad for Remus; it forces him to leave here…"_

_"What? They can't force him to leave! Oh, Remus, I'm so sorry!" Harry flew to Remus and winked at the stunned werewolf, "So that was what that interview was for! And to think we thought it was just Ministry's regular check up! How could they…you can't leave, Remus!"_

_"Right…what…a shock…" Remus muttered, "I, Harry, don't worry, we'll sort things out."_

_They both turned to see a very embarrassed Sirius who was literally sputtering, "Oh…Remus…I, I thought… Never mind. I'm sorry I didn't mean to break the news to you in that manner…this…I…"_

_"It's alright." Remus gave Sirius a reassuring smile, "So why don't you tell us exactly what happened?"_

They almost had to use a full body-bind on Sirius that night to stop him from charging to Umbridge's house while muttering something rather, er, inappropriate. After that, it took some more days to convince Sirius of the hopelessness of protesting. And the Auror then threw all of his energy into reaching his European contacts and securing Remus a nice place to stay, refusing to give himself time to think about the injustice of it all.

Even though they had time to prepare themselves for it, the absence of Remus still came as a shock to them. Sirius was especially hard-hit for not having his decade-old friend around him after living together for such a long time, and even Harry had a hard time to adjust. Nothing seemed right without Remus.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by Hermione's greeting. After giving his guardian another reassuring smile, he boarded the train with her, not without feeling a little bad at leaving Sirius alone in his current state.

They slipped into a compartment already full with Weasleys and Neville. Ron surely got tanner due to his little trip during summer, and Harry noted the addition of one red head – a small girl with freckles like her brothers and big, brown eyes, who was currently glaring at the twins. He raised one amused eyebrow.

Ron seemed to finally realize he hadn't introduced them yet and hastily spoke, "Right, Harry, Hermione, this is Ginny, my sister." He elbowed her for attention and instead won a slap on the head. "What-" the witch turned, reluctant to tear her eyes away from Fred and George. She stopped in mid-sentence when she spotted Harry and Hermione and blushed slightly, "Oh…I didn't see you…Sorry, it's all because _these_ two – she threw the twins a dark look – I'm Ginny, it's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Harry answered with a smile as Hermione did the same; the youngest Weasley seemed to be an interesting person indeed.

He smiled again as Ron relapsed into describe his extraordinary trip, yet it did not fully reach his eyes. Seeing all the carefree, merry faces around him was rather unsettling when he was consumed with all the confusion of life.

After exchanging greetings and summer tales, the Gryffindor boys soon proceeded to play a loud, board game that the twin invented during the summer, which involved quite a bit of loud explosions, some transfiguration, and coloring charms. Hermione declined politely and buried her nose in some heavy book. Harry, having not perfected her skill of ignoring all outside distraction and wanting some time alone to think over the summer's events, decided to wander around the train a bit. Besides, he didn't want to taint the happy atmosphere in the compartment with his presence.

Surprisingly, he found an empty compartment, which was very rare since there were so many students. Grateful nonetheless, he slipped in and gazed out of the window. It was a beautiful day, the sky a calming blue. It reminded him of the navy holster Remus gave him, as both a goodbye and birthday gift. It was quite ironic really, considering he couldn't very well use his wand then. Harry took out the holster and fingered it gently.

At first, he was so distracted by Remus' situation that he forgot about his wand problem altogether. It was three weeks before school started that he realized he_ had_ to solve the problem before the oncoming term. He had better control over his magic now, despite the fact that books on such topic were hard to come by and that he had no other guidance, and could perform some of the more complex spells without burning his fingers.

Then the thought occurred to him that maybe he could pretend to use a wand and cover the fact up; it was not that he didn't trust Sirius or Remus or any of the teachers in that matter, but he supposed something in his cautious nature made him want to keep the secret to himself. Thus one day he picked up his old wand and wondered if he could just hold it and not mean to use it. Surprisingly, he accidentally discovered that he could use his wand again, although not as comfortably as he did before. It happened as suddenly as when the wand rejected him, and it seemed as if the whole rejection episode was only there to force him to use wandless magic. It made sense actually, Harry decided, for most wizards would never think of using wandless magic – something so rare that it was bordering on being mythical – unless forced to. However, he had no intention of giving up his special study now that his wand was back in proper working order; such skills could prove useful, and Hogwarts should supply him with much needed books.

Harry turned his gaze back to the train; having the holster in his hands seemed to calm him a great deal. The surface of the leather was warm and soothing, reminding him constantly of Remus. On the edge of it carved the word "Remembrance."

For most people, it would just be a typical parting word, yet Harry knew that the older wizard referred to much more:

_When Harry retreated to the balcony after a rather strained small birthday party, Remus was there. It was unexpected, but Harry was not surprised. "Hello Remus," he called softly as he took his stand beside the older man._

_Remus nearly jumped in surprise, "Harry! I didn't expect to see you here…" Harry gave him a little smile._

_Remus gazed out to the starts again, "A calming place, isn't it? Sirius could never appreciate the beauty of star-gazing…but I've always liked it. Ever since I moved to the manor, I would come here if I need to sort things out."_

_"Yes…we all need to sort things out sometimes." Harry agreed quietly. He knew they were both dancing around the topic. Yet he played along, having no wish to talk about it and be reminded of the painful parting that was soon to follow._

_Remus raised an amused eyebrow, "And what would be troubling you?"_

_Harry shrugged; it wouldn't hurt to tell Remus a little about his memory, would it? "Have you ever felt that everything in your life fit together perfectly…and yet they are not quite there?"_

_"What do you mean? Has something been bothering you? Your memory?" Remus' voice was full of concern._

_"No…I mean, I remember everything – or almost everything I guess. It all makes sense and I…I just feel that I can't be more contented with life. Yet I always have the feeling that something is missing, something very important."_

_"And you feel guilty because you feel everyone's love for you. You feel that you shouldn't complain because all the invaluable friendships and care you received…yet you couldn't help but keep searching for something that would never be…"_

_"Remus?" The older man's voice was unusually hoarse, and there was a glint of pain in his gentle eyes. He shook his gaze off the sky and composed himself, "Sorry, I got carried away a little."_

_Harry, nodded, suddenly felt that he understood. He remarked, "There are things better left forgotten."_

_"Do you really think so, Harry?" the older wizard's expression was unreadable, "I take it that it has something to do with your past? Is there a particular thing you can't decide whether you want to remember or not?"_

_Harry nodded again, "Yes…I think I have a vague idea of what it might be…and that if I work really hard, I should be able to recall it. The only reason it evaded me for so long was because I didn't want to remember all that… Life seemed so much simpler without them…if I stop now, I can still go back to life thinking nothing had happened and be the sweet, carefree Harry you've seen the past few months…I can still persuade myself to accept all I remember right now in peace…but…Oh I don't know, Remus, I really don't know…"_

_Remus sighed, "There are things we are part of, memories so precious to us that we have to bring them back, no matter how much pain and confusion may come with it." He looked down and whispered to someone invisible, "I never forgot." It was almost like a statement, a testimony._

_"But what if I won't be the Harry you know anymore…what if I turn out to be someone different when I remember?"_

_"It is for you to decide, Harry. Just…know that sometimes you'll have to act fast; not everything is going to wait for you. Good luck to you, and don't stay out too late." With that, he turned to leave._

_Compelled by some unknown impulse Harry whispered after him, "I'm sorry, Remus, that I never really let you to get to know me."_

_Remus turned, his eyes gentle, "But I do know you, Harry. I know you love books; I know you had a rough past and are not the most sociable person, and I know you could be quite sly if you want to be. But I also know there is so much more behind those, and it's alright. We all have our own hidden sides. And please remember that Sirius and I will always accept you for who you are no matter what."_

_It was a very touched and contemplating Harry he left behind that night._

Harry smiled wryly; like it was all that easy. He supposed he would have to face the past sometime, yet he didn't want to do it so soon. He raised his head when the compartment door slid open and Ginny stuck her head inside.

"Mind if I join you?" Her voice held a little uncertainty. Harry realized that he must have looked a little tense and pale due to reliving the talk with Remus. He instantly slid on a warm smile and nodded his head.

The smile seemed to have swept away all of Ginny's doubts, as she walked in with a small bag and sat down casually. "I don't understand how Hermione can stand all those noises!"

Harry chuckled, "When Hermione has her nose in a book, it will take more than a banshee to get her attention on anything else." His eyes fell on her handbag, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh," Ginny followed his gaze, "Some things I carry around with me, wouldn't want my brothers get their hands on them and do Merlin-knows-what while I was gone."

The red-headed witch did turn out to be an interesting person to talk to. You'd think she'd be some timid, shy girl from the protective way Ron used to talk about her, but Harry could tell that she had a quite a personality, and talking to her proved to be enjoyable. She was just as an adamant Quidditch fan as Ron; she also didn't seem overly nervous about the sorting, saying that Gryffindor would probably be her house, although she'd like to see her brothers' face if she became the first Weasley to be sorted into another house.

They stopped only when the lady with candies came by, and Harry bought quite a few varieties to share. Time flew by, and soon Ginny excused herself to change into school robes.

Harry was just sitting back down when the door slid open again, thinking it was Ginny, he opened his mouth to greet her – and stopped dead when he saw that it was a unfamiliar, pale blonde boy. Malfoy, the name jumped into his head, and he drew back instinctively in fear. Harry frowned inwardly; it made no sense at all. He could vaguely recall hearing Ron complain about Malfoy quite a few times last year, yet the other boy really had done nothing to Harry to guarantee such a reaction. Malfoy must have seen his fear, too, for he sneered rather disdainfully. The sneer seemed to help Harry jump out of his trance; that was something he knew, and he could deal with Malfoy. The arrogant boy was by no means stupid, yet his pride would serve greatly in Harry's favor. Harry had no personal grudge against Slytherins as far as he was concerned, yet he knew the rest of the school's opinion of them. To stay out of suspicion he would have to stay away from Slytherins as well. Thus, he presented what he knew to be a timid, bookworm mask, the one that most people in the school knew him by. Malfoy would not be bothered to associate himself with lowly, shy Ravenclaws, and Harry would be left to his peace without further confrontation.

Draco Malfoy sneered as he visually assessed the small boy before him. He had walked into the compartment to escape that horrid excuse of a girl, Parkinson, thinking it empty. Yet he found himself face-to-face with one of that idiotic Weasel's lackeys. He smirked inwardly as the other boy cowered away in obvious fear; always the quiet, studious one, those Ravenclaws had no backbone. The boy was no different; hiding behind his think glasses, he was a walking bookworm.

Malfoy frowned and prepared to leave, such people were of no importance to him. Yet he stopped as he thought of his mission. Yes, it would be satisfying to get someone near that foolish Gryffindor, just imagine Weasel's face if the truth ever came out! Besides, the quite ones always had a lot to write, and knowledge-craving Ravenclaws tend to hold some special trust and reverence for books that they really should not, always thinking that books could only do people good …Yes, it would be perfect indeed.

He shifted his gaze back to the other boy and lazily said, "Draco Malfoy."

The other boy seemed mildly surprised that he bothered to introduce himself and replied uncertainly, "Harry Potter."

Draco frowned slightly as he thought of a plausible excuse, "Did you…happen to see a toad? My friend lost his." It was not the best of excuses, yet the priceless face of Longbottom when he lost his toad last year was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Um…I don't believe so…"the other boy turned to look the compartment over, exactly as Draco had hoped him to. Quick as lightening, he slipped _it_ into the bag besides the Potter boy.

"Well, I'll just have to look in other places, then," he drawled and strode out of the compartment. It had all been so easy; father would be pleased.

Harry frowned after the blonde. Well, the conversation hadn't been too bad; he had somehow managed to put his irrational fear into check. It would be ridiculous to freeze over someone you didn't even know! And it was obvious that he had successfully maintained his shy-Ravenclaw image. Yet he must say the other boy had acted rather strangely. Out of habit, he checked the compartment over for any traces of hexes or spells and found none. Satisfied, he relaxed in his seat.

When the door opened again this time, it was indeed Ginny who came inside. "I saw Malfoy leave, what was he doing here?" she asked with some contempt; Ron had obviously made some statements about Malfoy.

"Nothing, he…was looking for a toad."

"A toad? That's strange; I thought Slytherins despised toads."

Harry shrugged, Malfoy did say it was not his, and he definitely didn't look too happy having to look for it. "It's going to reach Hogwarts soon, think it's time we rejoin the group?"

He handed Ginny her bag, and thought that it surely looked much heavier than one would think. He smiled; Merlin knew what that girl carried around her! They walked back into the compartment to see the rest of their friends, and were relieved to find that the game was over.

"Where have _you _two been?" Fred asked a tad too innocently.

Ron immediately turned and asked, "What? You've been together?"

"Ron!" Ginny turned a little pink at the possible implications of her brother's words, "We were just talking in another compartment so we could have some _peace_!" She explained while giving her brothers a pointed look.

"Peace, she says," George said dramatically.

Fred shook his head, "The day Ginny Weasley and peace are associated! Have the world gone mad?"

Harry chuckled as Ginny rounded on the twins and settled down in his seat contentedly. He could well use some light-hearted Weasley bantering before they reach Hogwarts.

* * *

**_Important A/N:_**_ I am looking for a beta, does anyone know where can I find one? Or would anyone be interested? Please contact me at wanamaker05 yahoo . com or just drop a review! Thanks! : )_

**Review Responses:**

**Shadowface:** I hate Umbridge as well but don't be so hard on her, she's making Voldie's job easier. When Voldemort eventually returns – if he ever does – I think I might really need help thinking up torture ideas. And, yes, Harry will have to face Nagini sometime again in the future.

**DARKMARK33LV:** Thanks! It's hard to have a lot of Voldie scenes when he does nothing except lurking around…though since it's Harry's second year, you can expect to see a certain dark haired boy soon…

**Julie Long:** Thank you! Hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.

**Ossini:** Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

**Passing reader:** Thanks for reviewing!

**sami1010220:** Thanks for reviewing! I'm sad to see Remus leave, too. But he's not completely out of the picture, though, if that makes you feel any better.

**A reviewer:** There is a reason this is called an au fanficiton... I know this would never happen in the books. And if you made your comment based entirely upon the pairing of the story - which you seemed to have done - I think you'd understand if I do not take you seirously. Now, constructive critism, me likes. If you could point out what - other than the pairing - made it unbelievable, I'd love to hear that.


	11. Chapter 10: Eventful Start

**Choice - Chapter 10: Eventful Start **

_Beta'd by borne-shadow-childe, special thanks to her!_

Harry poured some porridge into his plate, rolling his eyes as he looked at the two girls beside him deep in conversation. Images of last night's sorting came flashing back, and his lips curled into a small smile. Ginny had indeed caused quite a commotion by being sorted into Ravenclaw; the expression on Ron's face had been priceless. Hermione seemed to have taken a liking in the redhead as well, and the two had been talking almost nonstop since – mainly with Hermione giving Ginny all sorts of information about the castle, with a great emphasize on the library of course.

Any other person might have felt abandoned since Hermione had been his closest friend as soon as he stepped into Hogwarts, yet Harry wasn't upset at all. He knew that they had looked close, but he also knew that he Harry had never been quite as open to her as a good friend probably should. He had been warm, charming, and as truthful as he could, but even with his impaired memory he had never let his mask down. He had been feeling a little guilty all along; but now Hermione could finally have a proper friend.

Harry pushed his dish away and took out a few books. He would have liked to learn more about Wardless magic now that he was at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to carry such books around and broadcast his new ability just yet. He was sure the library possessed the desired books, yet the action of getting his hands on them without the headmaster noticing could prove difficult. He still wasn't sure why he wanted to be cautious around the old man; from what Harry could remember the headmaster looked benevolent enough. Although it could never hurt to be careful – especially when he didn't have his whole memory intact. So right now Harry settled for Potions books instead, as there was a particular potion he had in mind that he wanted to ask about, and he could well use the fifteen minutes or so left of breakfast to get some background information on it. He had a feeling that the Potions Master would appreciate some knowledge before hand.

A higher year named Penelope Clearwater, who was handing out their timetables, however, soon interrupted him. The usually stern Ravenclaw prefect had a strange smile on her face, and Harry could have sworn that he saw her whisper something to another girl and _giggled_. The aforementioned giggle, furthermore, appeared to be contagious, as whatever news she passed on traveled around the tables seemed to affect more and more students as they all had goofy smiles on their faces. Harry turned and, to his dismay, found Ginny barely suppressing a giggle as well.

"Oh, seriously Ginny," Hermione said half–reproaching, yet she too had a light shade of red on her face. At Harry's questioning glance, she answered, "Remember how we were all speculating whom the Defense against Dark Arts professor would be? Well, it's Gilderoy Lockhart!" She finished dramatically, obviously expecting a reaction.

"Err…wow…" Harry replied after staring at her for a few seconds, quickly recalling any information he had on the name. Hmm…wasn't that the author of the useless seven books he had had to buy for Defense? No wonder then, as he had seriously questioned what kind of teacher would have wanted use such rubbish for textbooks at the time. A picture of a lavishly dressed blonde jumped into his mind, as it was kind of hard to disregard after seeing an image full of constantly chloride-bright smiles and repulsive winking all over the covers of _seven_ books. He shook his head. _Girls! _Merlin knew what they see in him. Well, at least he supposed it would be interesting to finally meet the man; after all, he had at least done enough to receive an Order of Merlin third class as well as be a best seller for several years.

An hour and half later, Harry found himself seriously rethinking his previous conclusion; as the class had turned out to be anything but interesting. After hearing some testosterone filled shameless boasting for half an hour and then taking a ridiculous quiz for another, he was more than ready for Potions class. No such luck, however, as he was caught by Ginny, who was anxiously waiting outside of the classroom (Hermione was still lucking inside with a considerable number of girls).

"Oh, Harry, how was he?"

"He was– fine…" Harry answered half-heartedly, for he didn't think Ginny would appreciate the rest of the adjectives that jumped into his mind at the moment.

"Ginny! You won't believe it! His hair looked even better than it did in the pictures!" Luckily Hermione had decided to tear herself away from the classroom at that exact moment, and Harry was saved from having to discuss Lockhart further.

* * *

They somehow made to the dungeons just on time, with Hermione shooting Harry apologetic glances. The class fell silent as the Potions Master swept in, black robes billowing behind him. 

Far from feeling intimidated by this show of authority, Harry couldn't help but sense a faint smile crept onto his face. It was not hard to decipher the fact that saying Professor Snape was not well liked by the students would be an understatement; yet Harry had his own opinions of the man. It was rather strange, actually, because he couldn't really remember any extraordinary encounters with Snape; all he knew was that they had met quite a few times and the Potions Master had been nice – or nice as in a snarky, Snapey way. The details of these encounters were somewhat lost to him. Although the fact that Potions continued to fascinate him helped the matter as well; in fact, it was the only class that Harry felt even remotely challenged in.

Their eyes met for a moment, and Snape turned away sharply, looking even grouchier at the smile on Harry's face. Harry supposed that it wasn't everyday that students wore _that_ expression in his class.

Some stern warnings, a few threats to take off points, another snide comment and they were set to work. Harry glanced over at the directions on the board; it was a mild Sleeping Draught. He stretched slightly as Hermione gathered all the ingredients – this should not be too difficult. "Fuxweed…then heat…knotgrass…" Hermione muttered as she added the ingredients, while Harry dutifully stirred the potion. His mind, however, was only half focused on the works at hand; he was planning on ways to ask Snape a favor. An idea came to him as he looked over the list again; Harry bit his lips. Would it be too presumptuous? Would Snape think he was showing off? Yet it could definitely impress the Potions Master and convince him that Harry was not off his rocker to ask for _that_ favor. Besides, the coloring would be almost the same, and only those very learned in Potions would notice any difference. When it really came done to that, he could simply claim ignorance.

His mind made up, he was just in time to stop Hermione from adding moonstone into the boiling potion.

"What are you doing, Harry? It says that we have to add it while the potion is boiling." She hissed.

"Wait, Hermione. I just thought of a variation…let's wait until the potion is half cooled. You know the heat compromises moonstone's calming properties; that way we can have a potion twice as powerful with the same amount of ingredients."

Hermione thought it over and agreed, but she still had her concerns, "Well, but we really need to know what we are doing; it has to be the exact right moment. Because it wouldn't dissolve properly after that point…"

"Please trust me…I promise I won't bring down our Potions grades. Please, Hermione? You know how rare we get to experiment our own variations."

Hermione bit her lips; Harry could practically see her own curiosity for learning fighting over her strict obedient caution. Finally, she relented, "Well, alright. But you _better_ do it right."

Thus they set down their equipments and waited, while the rest of the class worked frantically on. It could have seemed just like any other Potions class since they were always the first to finish; yet any more observant would notice their intense gaze and tense bodies – finished potions generally did not require such attention.

Harry stared at the potion, looking for any slight color change that would be the indication to add the moonstone. He only had a moment to wonder if the Potions Master would notice their unusual behavior and stop them from carrying out their experiment before the potion claimed his full concentration again. There! He could have sworn that he saw a faint white foggy substance appear. With hushed breath, he added the last ingredient and started stirring.

At first the potion stayed the ugly yellow color it was in, then it started turning sky blue as the moonstone dissolved. Finally it stabilized, and stayed in that color. Harry could hear Hermione let out a long breath.

"Oh, Harry! This is incredible!" she was flushed with excitement, "Do you think he'd give us additional points?"

Harry glanced up at the Potions Master uneasily; if the man had noticed their unusual behavior, he hadn't said anything. "Well, I doubt that…after all, the coloring is almost the same; we wouldn't know unless we try it on someone," he said reasonably.

Just then, Snape stood up, "Time is up, stop working and hand in a vial of your…dare I say, potions." He paused before the word "potions" as if he couldn't decide whether their work would even be called such. Harry looked around and had to agree; his classmates held vials of substances with various colors and smell – some were boiling still. Giving Hermione a small smile, he took their sample and stepped up the room.

When it was his turn, Snape had just finished bashing a Hufflepuff and was apparently in a foul mood. "Next," he snarled. Taking over the vial, he peered at the potion critically; yet Harry could just see an eyebrow raised to the slightest degree. "Hmm…almost the correct color, it seems, once again Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger seem to have been able to produce a somewhat tolerable potion."

Harry shrugged; coming from Snape, that would be a compliment. He sat back as the rest of the class had their works checked – when the bell rang, most were relieved.

He waited until all of his classmates left (which didn't take very long since they all but fled from the room) and approached Snape.

Snape scowled as he looked up, "What is it that you want this time?"

Harry had a strange feeling of déja-vu, but he soon shook it off, "Sir, I was wondering if I could have some extra tutoring time after class, if that's not too much trouble for you?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, "As much as it pains me to say it, Mr. Potter; you are among the few that are actually component enough for this class. I take it that it was your idea to put the moonstone in when the potion is half-cooled?"

"Thank you, Sir. But it is for an outside class potion…I will pay for the ingredients and all, and I can brew other potions for you to make up the time. I just need to learn how to brew it; once I'm able to do that I will stop bothering you," Harry pled.

"What is the potion that you wish to learn?"

"Wolfsbane," Harry answered firmly, knowing that Snape would be able to understand the implication of it. The potion was so rare that only a handful people so far had mastered the art of making it, and even reliable books on this matter were hard to come by. Yet he had decided to make it for Remus the day he learned of its existence. It was bad enough that Remus had to leave his childhood home; Harry would at least make this one thing more bearable. Snape seemed surprised at the answer, and his expression was dark. It was then Harry remembered the "feud" Sirius had talked about. He bit his tongue and held his breath.

For a moment, it almost seemed as if the Potions Master might refuse; but, instead, he whispered, "Very well, I shall be expecting you every Monday at eight o'clock. It is a very complex potion, and I will not put up with any idiocy. I _will_ discontinue the lesson if you show any sigh of incompetence.

"Oh," he smirked, "and remember you would be serving detentions should any of your little friends' curiosity rise."

Harry smiled brightly to the other man's utter disgust and excused himself from the classroom, knowing that Snape would not appreciate his further lurking about.

* * *

Harry stole a few snickers as Ron spoke on about Quidditch with just as much enthusiasm as the girls did Lockhart. Earlier during supper, they had been distracted by an alarming amount of Lockhart-related discussion that seemed to have sprung up across the tables. And, finally claiming insanity, Ron had dragged Harry and Neville out of the Great Hall for a walk around the lake. 

Just then _it _came. It was a most strange sensation; Harry felt as if something was stirring inside of him, seeking to break lose. On top of that, he also felt physically pulled towards the castle. Attempting to steady himself along a tree bank, he bent over in pain. However, just as he tried to locate the feeling, it just…disappeared, as suddenly as it came. Harry straightened himself up shakily; his breath came in short rags. _What was that about? _

"Mate, are you alright?" Ron's voice was full of concern.

"Yeah…this has never happened before," Harry stood up cautiously, frowning as he noticed the weakness in his knees and the sweat on his forehead.

"Do you reckon it could be…you know, the side-effect of-of that curse?" Neville asked nervously.

Harry pondered the matter; as it was very plausible. He had experienced a soul-tearing curse after all, so maybe his soul was still a little restless. He decided that it didn't really quite require Madame Pomfrey's attention, and he doubted that the Mediwitch could have done anything for him anyhow. Besides, who knew what the headmaster would make of this news? He would take care of it for now, and if it really got worse, he could always ask for help later.

Despite his claims, however, Ron and Neville insisted that they go back inside early, and they soon directed Harry to their common room. Passing a corridor, Harry saw a large group of students gathering around it. Curious, he went for a closer look, and was stunned by the sight that greeted him. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

**_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware._**

There was a large puddle of water on the floor; and, underneath the letter, a cat hung by its tail from the torch bracket, stiff as a board. The student looked on, shocked. For a few seconds there was an uneasy silence, Before someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Harry sought the source of the voice and saw that the speaker was none other than one of Malfoy's brainless lackeys, was it Crabbe or Goyle? However, it was obvious he had little idea of the significance of what he had just said…Harry's gaze fell on Malfoy; and his eyes narrowed; he was sure that the blonde had told the other what to say. Yet why would Malfoy want to draw suspicion upon his own friends purposely? For a moment, their eyes met; and, to Harry's utter surprise, Malfoy threw him a strange look and turned away.

Harry slipped away from the crowd just as the teachers arrived at the scene; he could still hear Filch's howling. He rubbed his eyes as a thousand questions flew through his mind: _What is the Chamber? Who is the Heir..._ and the list went on. Not to mention strange-behaving Malfoys. _The Chamber of Secrets_… somehow that rang a bell, yet why it was he could not grasp. He had a feeling, though, that all the questions are related to each other somehow. Harry let out a long-suffering sigh as he spoke the password to the portrait; this was going to be an eventful year indeed.

* * *

"Harry, are you alright? You look a little pale…" Hermione inquired as he sat down besides her. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired I think."

"Strange, Ginny is not feeling well, either; do you think it could be a virus in school?"

Harry looked at the red head, and indeed she looked pale and unsettled as well. At his concerned glance, however, she shrugged, "I'm fine, it's probably just that I haven't gotten used to the castle yet."

Hermione didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but she dropped the topic anyway. Harry settled contentedly into the warm, comfy chair as the girls started yet _another_ conversation about Lockhart. His eyelids soon became heavier as he reveled in the warmth of the fire. Hermione was talking about potions again…Lockhart…all seemed so distant somehow…hmmm…Ginny was talking to him, thanking him for something…. A diary…?

_It was a dirty, little room, with an oppressive atmosphere about. A few bony beds stood awkwardly in a row; some ragged clothes hang around the small window. It was strangely quiet except the shouting and the dead thuds of a belt hitting flesh…_

_"…You freak! You, you little devil! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" A black haired man was hovering over a little boy, his face contorted with rage. _

_The boy was curled up into a fetal position in the corner, arms over his head in a vain attempt to protect himself from the blows. Yet no sound escaped from his throat, no terrified sobbing; no shouting for the injustice of it all. He simply took the blows quietly, expertly shielding himself so that the damage would be a minimal. _

_Harry watched in horror as the beating went on. He had to help; he had to do something. Yet his body would not move at his command and his shouting went unheeded; thus he watched helplessly on. _

_After what felt to be like an eternity, the man finally stopped. "Any more funny business and you'll wish you were never born!" he spat at the little boy and strode away. The boy did not move until the sound of the man's footsteps faded. Harry had another urge to go up and help the other, yet he was still held in the paralysis. _

_A strange chuckle escaped the boy's throat, and he supported himself up with trembling hands, his face still hidden behind his hair and the rag that was obviously too large for him, "As if I do not wish that every waking moment…" Harry shuddered at the bitterness of his tone; the boy had looked so small, he mustn't be older than, what, eleven? He stumbled to a bed at the end of the room that seemed to be even worse off than the rest of the thin beds. Harry held his breath as the small boy slowly turned - _

"Harry? HARRY? Are you alright?"

"Humph -" Harry mumbled, not really comprehending what was being said to him. His eyes protested at the sudden light, and he numbly realized that he was being shaken violently.

Finally Hermione's face swam into view, and Harry sat up. Looking around, he saw Ginny and the rest of the room looking at him nervously. "What happened? I must have dozed off…"

Hermione still looked a little shaken, "Harry, you should have heard yourself; you sounded as if someone was killing you!"

"I'm alright," Harry gave her a reassuring smile, "Just some nightmares." Inwardly, however, he was deeply shaken by what he had seen. It had felt so real, as if it had really happened…

_Great_, he thought bitterly, _just__what I needed_; **_another_**_ puzzle to think about_.

* * *

The rat squeaked and fought, finally disappearing into the depth of the forest. A shadow settled over the little clearing; its presence sending off waves of irritation and menace. The rat should have been captured; he was so close…yet he had a flashback at the most inopportune time. Why the flashback? And _why_ **that** memory? He thought he had forgotten all that the day he decided to become invincible…

Lord Voldemort slid over the forest floor in contemplation. Something was going on; things were stirring. Just moments before he had experience yet another pulse of restlessness, as if his own existence was being called, pulled towards something. Yet who would have the power and will to call the Dark Lord but the Dark Lord himself? It was a rather disturbing thought; Voldemort frowned as he remembered a certain diary he left behind on the impulsiveness of youth. Could it be…? Yet the oath… The shadow growled in irritation; some ploy must be at work, and he would not be kept in the dark.

* * *

_A/N: Well, hope you liked it. And, now, you know how much I appreciate reviews. ; )_

**Review Responses:**

**Julie Long: **Thanks for your review. There is a little of Voldemort at the end of the chapter, but you know it's really hard to have him around when he's merely a shadow. Though I promise there will be plenty of Tom soon.

**Borne-shadow-childe: **Thank you so much for reviewing and being such a wonderful beta!

**A.Potter: **Thanks! Harry will interact with Tom soon, though I'm not giving out anything more specific, heehee.

**DARKMARK33LV: **Thanks a lot and I love your stories.

**Child-of-the-Waves:** I'm truly honored, though I already had offers. Would you like to help me on my other fic, though?

**Sami1010220: **You'll see about Harry's memory…soon I hope. And here's the update!

**Igonia: **Thanks! And yeah I do agree he's being corrupted a bit too much.

**Shadowface: **No problem, I'll kill off Umbridge when the time comes.

**HoshiHikari: **Thank you!

**GoddessMoonLady: **Thanks! I know, isn't Harry an awesome actor

**Yana5: **Thank you!


	12. Chapter 11: Things Unfold

_**A/N:** Thank you for reviewing; I cannot emphasize it enough, but it really means a lot to me. **Review Responses** can be found at the end of the chapter! And I'm very sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out. I have been sick, and school has been in the way...but I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully it will not take as long_

_A few of you have pointed out that last chapter is a little confusing; I know that could very well be the case as I, having known the plot already, would think something is obvious when it is not. However, some confusion may be deliberate, as I was adding some foreshadowing and such for future chapters. Here are a few **quick points about last chapter and what it signified**: **1)** The Chamber is opened (by Ginny, as you should all know by now); **2)** Malfoy thinks it is Harry who opened the Chamber; **3)** Harry had an attack/vision...that may be connected to the Diary's activities; **4)** Lord Voldemort does not know the plan about the Diary._

_Well, can't say anymore for now; ask me if there are more confusions that I did not address. And could you please point out which ones were unclear, so I might edit the story accordingly?_

* * *

**Choice – Chapter 11: Things Unfold **

_Beta'd by borne-shadow-childe, thank you!_

Noiselessly the figure swept across the floor. After sensing for any magical trigger, long, elegant fingers slid over the door expertly. The door had looked ordinary and harmless enough, and if any were to see the scene they would probably question why any sane man would ever want to stare at it in so intense a fashion. Yet things in the Base were anything but ordinary. The fingers retreated as they sensed no alarming change, and the figure relaxed slightly. So it was still safe, sealed securely behind the door, waiting for its rightful owner. He was about to turn away when he sensed something else. It was very well disguised, and it was of the magical signature of another – it should not have been there.

Amber eyes narrowed and then widened as he uncovered what was definitely a replica of the original locking spell, hidden under the broken magic and dead shell of the original one. It was ingenious, as that way almost no one could have known that the spell had ever been broken. And it also showed the caster's power, as such was no easy feat. But then, he wouldn't have expected anything less.

"What are you up to, Isidore?" Softly, he whispered the question, momentarily lost in contemplation. Things were happening, and _he_ did not like it.

The figure sighed softly; just then his superior senses picked up the shift in magic throughout the room. The man cursed silently as he realized a second too late that he had let his own magic wander. Instantly an alarm sounded. Wincing, he retreated swiftly; it would seem that the inactivity of the past four years had indeed blunted some of his edges. And in this game one small misstep would be fatal.

* * *

The common room was unusually crowded, filled with the soft hum of lively chatter. Harry Potter, sitting comfortably in the chair near the fireplace, half shielded from the view by the large pile of books in front of him, shifted slightly as he turned over a page of the ancient volume he held in hand. At the moment he was extremely glad that he was a Ravenclaw; just imagine the voice level in the Gryffindor common room right now! At least most of his housemates were, just like he himself, reading quietly. The mysterious attacks did not cease after the incident with Mrs. Norris. In fact, a _student_ had been found petrified in the corridor in the few weeks that were to follow. Much fear and uncertainty had arisen, and now Hogwarts was under whole new security measures. Students were led between classes by teachers, the higher years were ordered to walk with the lower years, and no one was to be out after supper – which was why they were all stuck in the common room.

Many had complained, yet Harry was, in fact, quite content to just sit in a corner and eat away his supply of books. After some pondering, he had come up with the perfect plan to go about his study with wandless magic. For his yearly research project in History of Magic, he deliberately proposed to work on "mythical" magical abilities. Not only could he now check out ancient text on such subjects with proper reasons, the fact that he was doing it for _History_ on a paper about _myths_ made it loud and clear that it was purely of non-practical interests. No one would suspect anything; besides, although he had to study some other subjects as well to quell suspicion, those so-called mythical abilities _were_ interesting to read.

Of course, there were mentions of pure myths that were only a waste of time, such as necromancy. Magical or not, no wizard could fight against the course of nature in matters of death and such; there simply was no way to raise the dead. Yet those were all the more reasons that he should throw them into his paper – if only to emphasize the mythical part.

And then there was so much more. The books also discussed some rare abilities; for starters, Harry had realized that he was probably a parselmouth – the incident in the Knockturn Alley had confirmed that. It wasn't impossible, as the book stated that there indeed were known parselmouths, except they were extremely rare (in fact, there were only three such cases: one being Salazar Slytherin, another was Aelwen Ellingham, and the most recent one being the Dark Lord Voldemort himself). It was quite a fascinating discovery, Harry had decided. Although he would think that he should have known before now. Nonetheless it could come in handy – provided that he managed to keep others from ever knowing it; he knew of the association of this gift with the Dark and shuddered to think what the school's reaction would be if he were ever found out. Really, Harry thought, it was quite stupid; after all, magic is neutral and it was the caster that steeled the course. That didn't mean he would go gloating about his newfound ability; of course, as he knew better than to go against the public's fear (however irrational it may be).

Then, an even more delightful discovery was made. Among the books about myths, legends and folklores, Harry found a few lines about the Chamber of Secrets that was now the center of so many speculations. The book had said that, according the story; a rift had begun to grow between Slytherin and the other Founders about admitting students of Muggle parentage. Before leaving the school, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber that only his true heir could unseal, unleashing the horror within and using it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic. _Interesting bits of information_, Harry reflected, _that definitely explained what the Slytherins had said the other day, and no wonder they looked none too worried about the situation – unlike other houses._

Despite suchdiscoveries, however, Harry was a little disappointed at his progress in wandless magic; which, ironically enough, was the main point of the whole research. He had secretly tried a few moderate spells, and found his ability still somewhat unstable and lacking in power. The few books he found tend to center on theories and speculation. That didn't come as surprising, as he had known that such ability was almost unheard of and was sure those who were gifted with it usually kept it to themselves. Even though he still couldn't do the major spells without a wand, his talent in this area could come in quite handy as an element of surprise in the future. So, for now, Harry was satisfied with slowly harnessing his power and finding the way himself, rather than risk exposing himself in the hunt for a passable mentor – not that he'd be likely to find one even if he tried.

Harry was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts by a slight wave of dizziness, and he furrowed his brows in frustration. Since the start of the term, he had not been in the best of health. These strange fits had continued, and he found himself feeling tired far easier than usual. Yet he could find nothing wrong with himself, and the fits had been mostly irregular and thankfully rare – so far. What troubled him however, were the strange dream visions. They all seemed to be about a mysterious boy – and most of them unpleasant. They had first occurred after the fits, but now he was having them at a much higher rate. The vivid images of those dreams sent him twisting for hours in bed, depriving him of even the solace of sleep with their chaos.

Harry sighed as he put his books down. He would need the strength tomorrow for his extra lessons; he was sure Snape would not take insomnia as a legitimate excuse for poor performance.

* * *

"Now, Potter, if I find out that you wandered a miniscule step away from the direct path to your dormitory, you've been forewarned of the consequences."

Harry only grinned as he bid his professor farewell. They had, much to Snape's chagrin, agreed to have his extra potions lessons on weekends in accordance to Hogwarts' new security measures. And Harry had just managed to convinced Snape that there was no need for the professor to suffer more time with him and walk him back to his common room, solemnly promising that he'd go straight back. Harry was a bit puzzled by his own confidence, as he was not one to put himself in danger with a potential monster lurking around Hogwarts; yet somehow he had a strange assurance of safety, as if he knew the monster didn't pose a threat for him.

The tutorial with Snape had gone quite well as far as he was concerned, and he had almost gotten the hang of the potion now. It was his fifth meeting with Snape since they had first struck the deal, and he found the Potions Master quite agreeable. Oh, he was still as much a snarky bastard as ever, but Harry had come to find those sarcastic comments quite amusing over time. There was, however, one eccentric thing he had noticed about the Potions Master. Snape kept throwing him strange looks whenever Harry happened to mention anything about his past. On a few occasions he seemed even on the verge of commentary, which was very unusual since the man strived to give the impression that conversing with Harry was quite painful and should be avoided until absolutely necessary. And then, there were of all those references to their previous encounters that Harry couldn't quite grasp the meanings of; which, Harry decided, was to be expected as he still couldn't recall such events well.

Still thinking, Harry ran into - or rather - through a silvery figure. Recollecting himself, he turned to apologize, knowing that most ghosts took offense when people ran through them even though technically it caused them no discomfort, "I'm sorry, I –"

The ghost with a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood widened his eyes in surprise. "So you decided to talk to me again, Harry Potter?" The Baron inquired.

Harry repressed an urge to flinch at the silky voice," Um...Have we met?"

A pair of silvery eyebrows shot up as the ghost regarded Harry, his shadowy face inscrutable. Finally, after a stretched silence, he spoke up, "Indeed we have, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt rather uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the cold eyes, "My apologies...it's just that there was an _incident_, and I have found that my memory seems to fail me concerning certain occasions since then..."

"Indeed..." the ghost's piercing eyes never let Harry, as if he knew the boy hadn't been trying his hardest to recover. Harry squirmed. Then, as if he could read thoughts, the ghost spoke up again before floating away, "You do not have all the time in the world...things are stirring; do not be too late, my little kindred spirit."

Harry sighed as he looked after the ghost; it seemed that he was doomed to be encircled by strange-behaving people (alive or dead) this year. He supposed it was because of his losing memory; everyone seemed to know something he didn't. The ghost's last warning disturbed him, but he still couldn't, and wasn't ready, to regain his full memory. He knew that, in a way, he had promised Remus...but still...

It was then he felt another one of _those_ fits. "_Great_ timing" was all he got out through clenched teeth before his knees hit the floor. The feeling of being ripped apart was back again, and Harry lost awareness of his surroundings as pain clouded his vision. Luckily, just like in all other instances, it passed momentarily, leaving Harry breathless.

Still gathering his bearings, he thought he heard someone speaking. Heart sinking, he realized that he was still lingering in the castle – alone. He could only hope that it wasn't the Potions Professor. After all, it wasn't his fault that he hadn't gone straight back to Ravenclaw Common Room. But while other teachers might be more tolerate, Snape definitely would not buy this explanation.

Looking around, though, Harry saw no one in sight. Yet just as he thought he had imagined the voice, he heard it again: "_Ssso hungry...for sssso long..."_

Harry inhaled sharply; instantly alert despite the weakness he was experiencing. _This _was definitely not any teacher or student. In fact, now he thought of it, the voice had a rather hissing tone, not unlike ... the snake he overhead in the Knockturn Alley!

_A snake, in Hogwarts?_ Harry looked around for possible hiding places the creature might take, all the while trying to trace the source of the voice. When he heard another string of hisses again, he was sure it was moving away – moving upward. He stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Whatever the thing was, it must be moving within the walls. The passage about the Chamber of Secrets quickly jumped into his mind; could it be... Yet should he willingly put himself in dire danger to find out? Sure he supposedly fought a Dark Lord last year, but that didn't mean he'd be the school's resident savior.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry decided to follow the noise. He figured that he would just find out if it had anything to do with the attacks and alert the teachers if it were indeed so. It shouldn't be too life threatening as he had no intention of confronting the creature; besides, even if it came down to that, there was that strange sense of confidence again that he would be able to handle the monster somehow. As his instincts so far had not failed him, Harry decided it was worth a try.

Silently, Harry pressed himself onto the walls, moving mostly among the shadows. He didn't want to get caught by some bungling prefect on the way. Although, running into a potentially monstrous snake didn't sound too much more appealing to him, either. He ran up the stairs and turned into corridor after corridor, trying to find the mysterious voice, only to face a particularly dark hallway. The torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. Vaguely he could make out a few dark figures on the other end; yet, even as he watched, a figure disappeared around the corner. And as it passed the dim light that slid in through the broken window, Harry thought that he hadseen a flicker of red.

Harry waited for the voice to return to give away its position, but it never did. After waiting for what he deemed a reasonable amount of time to make sure that the danger was truly gone; Harry moved along the corridor cautiously and reluctantly. The walls were bare, without armors or paintings that could provide him with hiding spots, and walking through the hall would definitely expose him as an easy target.

Luckily he made it all the way without a disturbance. Letting out a breath, he looked down at the figure –

And immediately caught his breath sharply again. Lying on the floor was a student, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Harry bent over the figure and was relieved to find that whoever he was, was still alive. He frowned as he thought the events over; the voice he heard definitely had something to do with the attack then, this just confirmed that. However, although the staff should be notified of the connection somehow, he didn't think his being found alone in a relatively unused corridor with a petrified student would be the best way of doing that. His mind made up, Harry turned to slip away.

Yet just as he was about to turn the corner he heard what was unmistakably the voice of Filch yelling after him, "Who's there?" Harry only quickened his pace and as he heard footsteps after him; then, just as he rounded the corner, a pair of arms grabbed him and dragged him into one of the empty classrooms.

Instinctively Harry reached for a curse and only just stopped himself in time as he realized whom exactly the arms had belonged to. He schooled his face into that of panic and meek confusion as he faced one Draco Malfoy.

They waited in silence as the caretaker's footsteps died away. Malfoy then sneered, "Consider yourself lucky that I decided to take an afternoon stroll."

"S-stroll? But the attacks..." Oh, Malfoy was getting on to something very interesting indeed; Harry made sure he looked bewildered – just to encourage the prideful Slytherin on.

"Ah, you have no clue, have you? I have nothing to fear about the attacks, unlikethose _Mudbloods_," Malfoy spat, "Be careful next time; we can't very well have you caught so early, now can we?"

Harry looked as Malfoy strode away, his expression turning from one of bewilderment into that of thoughtfulness and cool calculation. _Why did Malfoy help him? And what did he mean about being caught? _Harry sighed as he shook his head, _talking about strange-behaving Slytherins... _However, he was sure the other boy's words held some clues to the present situation. Malfoy, as Harry noted before, had too much pride for his own good. Harry had a feeling that Malfoy had let slip more than he should today, and he would definitely look into it.

Shrugging, Harry slipped out of the room, intending to end what was now a very, very long walk back to his common room.

* * *

_**Important A/N: **Thank you all so much for reading! And I have a few questions for you all:_

_First, I was a little worried when some of you said the last chapter was confusing...So, er, was this chapter clear? Did I explain things well? Also, this probably won't come up until much later (and I'm still not a hundred percent sure he'll have one), but I'm thinking of giving Harry a pet, and I'm wavering between:_

_**a) a jobberknoll** (A tiny blue speckled bird which makes no sound until the moment of its death, when it lets out a long scream consisting of all the sounds it has ever heard; their feathers are important ingredients in making potions that affect memory...I like this one best personally since Harry's memory and such); _

_**b) an augurey** (Irish Phoenix...greenish, grayish, calls rains and stuff...I'm a bit wary about this one since I don't like to make my character all-powerful so if it should be chosen, its tears will NOT have healing powers...and it will DIE a natural death w/out rebirth); _

_**c)** Any suggestions you might have? Although no snakes please!_

_Oh and I must've been very bored that afternoon...but I looked up pictures of snake rings. Check the links out in my profile if you're interested. _

* * *

**EmpressTryphosa: **Thank you so much for reviewing! I try to have as much Voldemort as possible; but, as I said before, it is quite difficult...

**Julie Long:** Thank you! Here is the next chapter and I'm glad to hear that you enjoy this story and hope you continue to do so.

**borne-shadow-childe:** Heehee, thanks again for a job wonderfully done ::Loves::

**Yana5: **Thank you for reviewing!

**Shadowface:** Thank you! It will probably be that pairing...though I'm having trouble deciding when it should start...

**Night-Owl123:** Thanks! Here is the update!

**DARKMARK33LV:** Thank you so much for reviewing! Yes, you are about right on both accounts. And this chapter should hopefully have explained things further.

**Igonia:** Thank you! I'm so glad you liked the Potions lesson, as I was agonizing over writing it...I was so afraid that I wouldn't do Snape right!

**ManicReversed:** Thanks for reviewing. You seem to like Draco...a question for you: do you mind if I torture him a little later on? It is not absolutely necessary, so if you do, then I'll let him be.

**Crissy Potter:** Thank you! Here is the update!

**GoddessMoonLady:** Thank you for reviewing! I'm sorry about Harry's memory; I promise he'll remember soon!

**sami1010220: **Thank you for reviewing! : ) Did the note help? Please let me know if there are other unclear things.

**Ladyraebef:** Thank you for reviewing! Harry will get better – or worse, depending on your point of view – soon, so don't worry!

**Sil : **Thank you so much for the in-depth review. I'm so glad that you find this story worth your time for a well-thought review. And I'll definitely look into your suggestions.

**AsheslovesHarry:** Thank you for reviewing, hopefully the note at the start cleared up the confusion a bit.


	13. Chapter 12: Remembrance

_A/N: I'm really, really sorry it took me so long to update. I'm not even asking for forgiveness, but would it help if I say that I love you all? It was your continued support that helped me squeeze time out for fanficiton during those difficult school months, and every single review gives me much joy to read. Okay, stepping off the soap box now, on with the story! _

* * *

**Choice-Chapter 12: Remembrance  
**_Beta'd by Borne-shadow-child, many loves to you!_

"_Jasper…"The name was spoken softly, in a way a teasing cat would to its prey. _

_A man of average height and sandy hair slid out of the shadows to face his pursuer, his amber eyes shimmering iridescent in the dark. "Isidore," he acknowledged. _

"_I was wondering when you'd stop playing this childish game of hide-and-seek," The man who spoke first replied in a pleasant voice, head inclined to one side in apparent amusement as he took a step closer, a good-natured smile on his lips. The flickering light in the corridor gave his face an unnatural pale glow, ominous in a sea of shadows. He was a small man, bald on the head. His features were of the compassionate kind, not unlike those of a friendly uncle; and yet at the moment, there was a malicious gleam in his light blue eyes._

"_Hide and seek? I should think that you are the one who has been hiding - rather a lot of thing - lately." The man named Jasper met the other's eyes straight on._

"_Oh? And what led you to that assumption? If I remember correctly, it was your magical signature that was found in the study, and you are the one who had been evading the Circle's rightful punishment." _

"_The stirrings of the Mark, a broken locking spell, and a missing diary?"_

_The smile vanished from the other man's face. Even Harry felt his menace; it was bone chilling to see how much change came over his features. No longer could anyone mistake him for a kind uncle but for what he was: a panther ready to strike, "You should have learned not to tamper with dangerous things," he hissed in a low voice._

"_And you should have stayed away from Master's possessions." _

_Brown eyes narrowed, and the man actually pouted as a boy would when wronged. He replied in a sincere voice, although his eyes betrayed a trace of mocking, "The Lord has fallen; I am merely doing my best as a loyal follower to carry on to the best of my ability…he would have wanted this."_

"_Indeed, Isidore…"_

"_My loyalty is not of your concern. I have always thought you as a clever man, and clever men do not stand in my way."_

"_You cannot harm me as a fellow Elite; it was part of the Oath we all took, however little you regard it now."_

"_But as the Head I also have the power to banish you from the Circle, "the man named Isidore smiled again, "You are no longer an Elite."_

_Jasper bent over in pain as the statement took effect; a strange purple light engulfed him; and, when it left, he looked as one drained of his energy. _

_Isidore stepped closer to the now defenseless man, "You, Jasper, had just signed your own death warrant." _

_The other man only laughed, blood trailing down his mouth, "You, Isidore, are a fool. You had just given me a means to escape." With that, before the other man could react, he vanished from the floor. _

* * *

A few thousand miles away, Harry Potter woke up with a start. He wrapped the blanket around himself and pushed open the heavy curtains of his four-poster. He walked over to the window, the cold barren stone floor biting his bare feet. Cool night air ruffled his already unruly hair as he gazed thoughtfully on, eyes unfocused and not really seeing the scenery at all. He'd had yet another vision, but this one was…well…different. For one thing, it did not feature the dark haired boy who dominated all his other vision-dreams. Also, it had _felt _different. All the other ones, he just knew that they were of the past, and this one had felt as if it was just happening, right now. Yet he knew it was no ordinary dream and silently questioned his own sanity: having different kinds of visions of various persons did not bode well as far as he was concerned. He frowned as he thought of the contents of the dream. Jasper, Isidore…Fucifus, Serge, Valeria…a string of names rolled over his tongue. Harry's frown deepened; who were those people? What did the names mean? He knew he did not remember everything, but that usually left him a shadowy feeling that told him he was not remembering. This time, though, he absolutely found nothing to back up the names. And what could the dream signify? Who was the Master they were talking about? What of the Elite Circle? Then there was the mention of a diary, which seemed somehow important…Harry really couldn't see how a diary might be related to power intrigues; well, perhaps it could be of an important person and therefore held valuable information. But still…Perhaps it was time he truly allowed his memories to return? 

Turning, he momentarily swayed and had to catch the windowsill to prevent himself from a fall. He frowned as he strengthened himself up; this was really getting serious. He knew he ought to see Madam Pomfrey about the fits and decline in strength, yet something or another turned up, and he had a most unexplainable reluctance. Putting on his warmer robes, he promised himself to see the nurse later that day.

Quietly Harry left his dormitory, careful not to awake his roommates - not that he cared about their rest, yet he was unwilling to let them find out that he had been restless at night. The common room was dark and chilly; the fire had died out sometime during the night, and apparently it was still too early for the house-elves to come and relit it. Pale moonlight escaped into the room from the tall windows; branches of the trees leaving behind eerie shadows, like ominous dancers of forgotten tribes. He lighted the fireplace with a whispered "_incendio_" and settled into the armchair besides it; it was more or less a habit now. Harry reached for one of his books just as the magical lights on the wall started to light up upon sensing his presence. Dimly he wondered what ungodly hour it was, although it hardly mattered - he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again.

He supposed he was half way through the eighteenth page when he heard the soft opening of the portrait. Alarmed at the fact that anyone would be entering at such an hour, Harry turned to the door, wand at hand - only to face a distraught-looking Ginny Weasley, who turned even a shade paler upon seeing Harry.

"Oh…Harry…Oh…" she stuttered; and, to Harry's horror, seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Er…Ginny, where have you been?" Harry asked hesitantly, careful that his voice was gentle.

But even that was too much for the young witch, for she broke into sobs, "I don-don't know! By Merlin's sake, I don't know! I know what you must think…but I just don't…"

Rather awkwardly, Harry walked over and pat his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "Shh…Ginny, it's alright, I believe you."

Tearful eyes looked up at him, "You-you do?"

Harry nodded and tried to give her a smile, inwardly cursing over-dramatic young first-years and their mood swings, and helped her sit down on an armchair near by.

After visibly trying and failing to recollect herself, Ginny buried her head in her hands, "God Harry…I think I must've lost my mind! I'd wake up in the strangest places, and I have no idea why I ended up there or what I did… and all those attacks…do you think it could've been-"

"Shhh, Ginny, don't be silly, there is no way that you could've done it…no lower-year student could have; it takes a lot of power, you know." Harry sat down besides her, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. He was fast processing this intake of information…as he told her, he doubted that Ginny would have the power to commit those attacks, yet his mind jumped back to the flicker of red he had seen in that dark corridor. The description Ginny provided almost sounded as if she was being magically controlled…but such dark spells going undetected in Hogwarts? And why Ginny? As far as he knew, the Weasleys, despite being purebloods, were not of a particularly rich or powerful family. Besides, what can a possessed first year do? The average of them would be lucky to successfully perform five most basic spells. However, Ginny's voice brought him out of his thoughts and back into the situation at hand.

"Thanks, Harry," she grinnedweakly, "Tom said that, too - "

Harry furrowed his brows as he tried to remember which of Ginny's year-mates was named Tom; it was unusual for him to not know one from his own house. Shrugging, he dismissed the thought; after all, how could powerless lower-years be of any importance? He was probably just a friend Ginny made outside of the House.

After some more persuasion, Ginny was finally calm enough to return to her dormitory. Harry sat down wearily with a sigh; _that_ was not something he liked dealing with - although luckily the girl was too distraught to wonder what on earth Harry was doing in the Common Room at such an hour. It was almost dawn now, and he had little sleep; yet he was restless, filled with the excitement of a hunter before a game. Something was happening, within and outside of Hogwarts… something important - and Harry had the feeling that he was running out of time.

He narrowed his eyes as he remembered the riddle-like words of the Bloody Baron; the ghost must've known something. Harry supposed it was time that he asked the ghost some thorough questions. Not now though - now was too near morning, and it'd be almost impossible for him to find the Baron and then get back before any of his housemates realized he was gone.

* * *

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances as they tried to follow Professor Snape, almost running to catch up with the taller man. Their Housemates followed less eagerly, yet no one dared to stay too far behind - the dungeon's hallways were complex, and they were not familiar with this part of it; getting lost in it would not be a fun experience - not to mention with a monster lurking around the castle. It turned out that their Head of the House, Professor Flitwick, had some business to attend to early in the morning, and Snape ended up having to escort them, as well as his own Slytherins, to his Potions classroom. Thus they are currently heading for the Slytherin common room; which none of them had ever gone to before. The Potions Master had been more irritated than ever. 

Turning a corridor, however, Snape stopped dead in his tracks, causing Harry and Hermione to almost smack into him - which, Harry was sure, would not have yielded pleasant results. Looking forward, though, he too froze as he saw what made Snape stop. It was the Bloody Baron, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor.

Harry stared; it did not make sense… not at all. Wasn't the Baron a _Slytherin_ ghost? From what he learned about the Chamber, there was no rational reason for _him_ to be attacked. He bit his lips in frustration, another dead-end… And here he was hoping that the ghost would provide him with some answers. From the gasps behind him Harry knew that the rest of his Housemates saw the scene now as well, and Snape shouted for quiet and order. With an impassive face, the Potions Master led them into the classroom (which was nearer) instead and left them there after some stern warnings and a locking charm.

It was not until half an hour later that he arrived again with the Slytherins, and Harry presumed that he had let the other teachers know of the situation and taken care of the ghost. Everybody was too excited to focus; yet Snape seemed bent on giving them a hard lesson anyway - not that Harry expected anything less. There were meaningful exchanges of glances and whispered speculations, but nobody dared to slack off too much on their potions.

Although most of his classmates were still struggling, Harry soon found himself staring dully at the purple fume rising from his cauldron; all he needed to do now was to wait for his potion to be cool enough before the last ingredient was added. He rested his head on his arms as he thought the events over, his classmates' whispers fading into a soothing hum. It was quite warm near the fire of the cauldron…

_Not **another** one of those blasted dreams! Harry thought as he found himself floating in a dimly lit chamber. All around the room, lighting spells flickered weakly, whether it was by design or because of age Harry could not tell. On the ceiling he could make out a replica of the night sky, not unlike the one in the Great Hall, except it was full of dark, rain-fat clouds advancing upon two bright stars. Harry also noted that it was a moonless night. The damp walls were tiled delicately with patterns of silver serpents and symbols unknown to Harry. On the floor there was a deep green carpet, decorated yet again by the serpent. (1) In the center of the room stood analtar of sorts, its shadow looming over the room ominously in the flickering blue light; Harry thought that there was something on top of it, but he couldn't be sure. All he had seen so far felt old, very old. He felt chilled despite the fact that he was merely a ghost presence in a dream. In the back of his head somewhere he knew that he was in his Potions class, and that he ought to wake up before he royally messed up on his potion; yet from experience he knew it was useless to try to break away from one of those visions. So he just prayed that something showed up soon, and that he wouldn't need to spend the whole dream staring at walls in a gloomy chamber. _

_Before Harry could study the room in greater detail; however, a door invisible to him before slid open, and the boy who now so frequently occupied his dream-visions stepped inside. The spells immediately lightened up upon his presence, and Harry almost gasped at the effect it had on the room. In the brighter, and somehow warmer, light (which is now a normal white/yellow); Harry saw that he had missed a few things upon his first inspection. The room still looked mystic enough, and Harry could feel ancient guarding spells floating around it, threatening to flare at any unwelcome intruder. Yet there are some more modern, personal items. On a simple desk near the corner, there was a pile of books, all with bookmarks intact. An opened notebook lay besides the books, and a half-bald feather pen stood in an inkbottle. A yellowed picture of a woman he couldn't recognize hung on the wall, framed and all; yet the frame couldn't quite hide the rugged edge on one side which indicated that it was probably once ripped off from a larger picture. Harry stared at it for a while, but it showed no sign of moving; slightly confused, he shifted his gaze to more interesting items around the room. On the table there lay more artifacts even Harry couldn't quite recognize. On the whole, they blended in strangely with the ancient room, causing it to be dark and strangely personable all at once. And the style quite reminded him of something… _

_Returning his attention back to the other boy, Harry saw that he had moved to stand in front of the altar. Holding out a hand, the boy whispered something Harry didn't catch. At his command, however, the stone lid opened slowly, and out came a shadowy figure of a wizard. It didn't look quite like a ghost, yet what it was Harry couldn't tell; he also strongly suspected that the wizard was Salazar Slytherin himself from the few pictures of the man he had seen from the books._

_All the while the other boy had stood reverently, not taking his eyes off the ancient wizard._

"_Not reading it will not stop it from happening," the mysterious wizard simply stated, sounding faintly disgusted, yet the boy seemed to understand and looked deep in thought. He folded his hands and began to pace about the room. Just as Harry was getting bored and cross-eyed with all the pacing, the boy stopped and returned to face the altar. Reaching into it, he took out a sealed roll of parchment. Tapping it thoughtfully for a while, he began to open it. However, instead of unrolling it completely, he merely glanced - although very carefully - at the first few lines and closed the parchment again. Harry was getting a little exasperated; what dreadful things could the parchment say? Just read it already! _

_With a sign the shadowy wizard voiced the same thought, "Just read the whole prophecy so that I get to have my rest, too. I could never understand why I chose to leave a part of my memory here anyway…" _

_The other boy frowned, "If he is indeed as you prophesied, then with or without my doing he shall be who he is born to be; why should it matter if I read on or not?"_

_The shadow's expression was inscrutable, "Because it is a future with two possibilities; you read that he was your greatest assert, yet he could also be your deadliest enemy." _

_The other boy laughed coldly, "Why am I not surprised?" _

_The wizard merely cocked one eyebrow, "My, my, aren't we the optimist?" _

_The boy narrowed his eyes, "What makes you think that I would even believe in such things? I have no reason to think that it even has likelihood to happen." The bitterness and contemptuousness surprising Harry; the boy had seemed to hold the wizard in such high respect in all other matters. _

"_Hmm, perhaps because of the fact that you are still keeping the ring?"_

_It was then Harry noticed that the other boy also held a small, jeweled box - quite carefully if he might add. _

"_My will shall shape the future; whether I fail or succeed shall be no man's doing but my own. My choice; my responsibility; win or lose, only I hold the key to my destiny. (2) I will not allow my fate to be dependent on another!" the boy avoided the wizard's gaze and turned resolutely away; Harry thought he looked a little frantic. _

_Levelly the wizard replied, "I may see the future, but it's for you to make it." _

_The boy stared at the box for a while, and Harry thought that he saw a flicker of something he couldn't quite grasp in his eyes. "No…" Harry heard him whisper, "No, I shall not read on. I want to know…without seeing his name."_

_To Harry's surprise, the rebuttal he fully expected the wizard to make never came. Returning his attention back to the boy Harry saw that he had carefully placed the roll of parchment back into the holder and snapped the box open. Full of curiosity Harry looked on… _

* * *

Snape circled around the classroom, glaring at the few who dared to whisper. Granted, the kids had just seen a petrified ghost, but that was no excuse for distraction or poor performance in class as far as he was concerned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw pink smoke rising; some brainless brat must have left their potion to cool a while too long - he had long ceased to be surprised by his students' ability to mess up on the simplest procedures. With a scowl he turned, and had to blink to make sure that what he saw was true. The smoke was from Harry Potter's cauldron. Not that he expected anything more out of a Potter, yet this boy had always been attentive during class. And from what the Potions Master knew of Potter's skills, there was no way that he could have messed up on such a simple potion. Shifting his gaze, his eyes widened in astonishment: the said boy was sitting with his head buried, apparently deep in slumber. 

"Potter…" Snape called in a dangerously low voice; a few horrified students turned to watch in morbid fascination. Even as he closed in, the boy gave a start and jumped up from his seat. He seemed oblivious to the staring and, in Snape's case, glaring. His eyes unfocused, as if seeing something that was not really there. Potter then stared at his own hands, took a step back, and swayed. When his eyes did meet with the Potions Master's, the green orbs were of swirls of confusion and turmoil. Taking note of the boy's irregular breathing and deathly pale face, Snape reluctantly came to the conclusion that Potter was not well. He was about to order the brat to the hospital wing after class - without taking off points, even - when Potter blinked and finally seemed to notice his presence.

"I'm sorry…" the boy whispered half-heartedly, steadied himself on the edge of the desk, and ran out of the classroom!

Inwardly cursing the Potter line back up sixteen generations, Snape just caught a glimpse of the boy disappearing around the corner as he stepped out of the room. He supposed that he could lock the class up again and go look for Potter, but there was no guarantee of what could happen when brainless students were left alone with their potions. Giving an irritated sign, the Potions Master stepped back inside and turned to his office, which is next to the room. Facing the fire, he called, "Flitwick, a word with you."

Oblivious to his surroundings and not caring where he was heading, Harry ran through the corridors of the castle. What he knew was that he needed to get away, away from everything so that he could try to recollect the chaotic mass that was his mind. Voldemort…Tom Riddle… his thoughts flew, and he was almost choked by the many unnamable emotions that arisen in him with the names. Stopping and leaning against a wall, he looked down at the ring on his finger, the one that had provided him much comfort, and the one the boy in his vision - Tom Riddle - had held in the jeweled box. He closed his eyes as memories surfaced like poppling ripples when a stone hit the calm surface of a lake, sweetness and bitterness intertwining. Murderer of his parents… Voldie… Spanish Gold, Nagini, troll…the Stone… Voldemort who had killed his parents, Voldemort who had treated him as an equal, Voldemort who wanted to kill him the previous year - no, Voldemort who saved him at the end. Harry narrowed his eyes; the events in the underground chamber were still blurry, yet it was no mistake that Voldemort had come to his aid after he took the Stone. Could the Dark Lord then never really meant to kill him?

_Calm down, Harry, calm down._ He took in a deep breath and tried to form a logical train of thought. Alright, so he thought that the troll was sent after him, and that Nagini had attacked him upon the Dark Lord's order. Those had been the bases of his belief that Voldemort wanted him dead. And yet as he reviewed the events now, adding the fact that Voldemort had risked his own elimination by helping him in front of the mirror…that belief seemed somehow a little ill founded. The Dark Lord might not have tried to kill him after all… But why wasn't he relieved? Shouldn't he be happy? Why did he feel almost as if - as if he _wanted_ to believe that Voldemort betrayed his trust and had attempted to murder him so that he could hate him in peace? Wait, no…how could he even think that he should be happy with the Dark Lord? What of his parents? His parents who genuinely loved him and who were ruthlessly murdered by Voldemort? Harry wanted to scream in frustration; he should have never let Remus and Sirius tell him all the stories about his parents last summer. And those two, too: why did he ever allow them to be so close to him? Why can't he go back to be impassive about those kind of things? His parents were of the past…the _past_… Harry growled; it was no use. His brain was rampaged by conflicting thoughts until even he didn't know how he was thinking anymore.

He massaged his temples and caught the sight of the ring again…what could the ring mean? The image of the young Riddle talking with the painting reappeared in his mind; and now Harry realized where he must have been - the Chamber of Secrets.

His eyes widened as the implication hit him: if the Chamber had been indeed opened again now, who would dare to invade something of the Heir of Slytherin? He remembered Voldemort saying that only a Parselmouth could have opened it, and as far as he knew, the only Parselmouths alive were the Dark Lord and Harry himself.

Harry straightened himself up determinedly; he would have to find out - it would be in the best interest for both sides. And it was something fishy indeed; he needed to put aside his own confusions for now - he had a feeling that whoever it was behind the opening of the Chamber did not bode well. A small voice in the back of his head suggested slyly that this was just his way of stalling to deal with his own conflicting emotions, but Harry silenced it vehemently.

Whatever plan he had in mind, however, hardly had the chance to be carried out as he was attacked by yet another wave of pain. Harry felt as if he was being physically torn apart and screamed as he had never done.

Luckily, like all other times, this passed rather quickly - although to him it seemed to drag on forever. Harry knew he ought to get up from the floor, but he was so very tired and the cool stone was quite soothing. Mustering his will, however, he sat up anyway, letting the wall support his body. Not for the first time he wondered about the strangeness of the pain; it had but all left him, no sore muscles, no physical trace what-so-ever save for a bit of weariness. Wryly he remembered a little too late his promise to see Madame Pomfrey earlier that day. Lingering side effects or not, however, the pain had been real enough - and never more intense. Harry was surprised that he had not passed out…or had he?

With a start he recalled that he had run away from his Potions class, and with that his newly re-claimed memories. The pain had distracted him earlier, but now he was left alone to deal with the shock of the revelation again. It was after a few moments of mounting self-pity and mingled thoughts about Voldemort and the Death Eaters that he remembered he had better think up an excuse for running away in the middle of a class soon. Hearing approaching footsteps, Harry knew there was little time - and his brain was still not functioning properly enough…

Heck, he thought as he let himself fell back onto the floor, he'd had enough for one day. Let them find him unconscious; the damned explanations could wait.

* * *

_(1) I took reference to Garth Nix's Lirael here for the description of the room; which, by the way, is an amazing book and should be read by all. _

_(2) It's actually a quote by Elaine Maxwell_

* * *

**Review Responses:**

MajinBakaHentai: Ah, thank you for reviewing. Yes, Harry will meet Tom soon – hopefully.

Myzteek: Thank you for pointing that out! I shall fix it accordingly.

Rinuda-Chan: Thank you for your reviews! I'm not quite sure how/when to introcude Harry's pet yet, but we shall see.

japanese-jew: Thanks for reviewing. Acutally it was hard for me to remember Harry is not famous as I am writing, as well, lol. As for his wand, he didn't get a new one, it got back to working order sometime later.

Julie Long: You don't know how happy I am to hear that! One of the reasons I started writing this story is to create a Harry that is more complex than a golden boy or a total, vicious little devil.

Riantlykalopsic: Thank you and here is the update!

sami1010220: Here is the update! Thank you for your continued support!

GoddessMoonLady: lol, thank you for your review! Puts hands together and gets excited in the prospect of introducing magical creatures and torments for Malfoy

CrimsonTearsOfPain: I'm glad you liked it! Here is the update!

Sariel Aleithea: Thank you! Here it is.

A.Potter: Thank you! Hmm…yes I shall give his pet some more thought, at the moment everything is still up in the air.

Yana5: Thank you for reviewing and here is the update!

DARKMARK33LV: Thank you for your continued support. You get to see more of Isidore and co. in the chappie, and even more explanations in the next. Voldemort will find out all that happened, and Harry is getting his memory back – soon actually. My Halloween was tolerable – stingy neighborhood with almost no one offering candy…lol.

Igonia: Thank you! :) You'll get to know more about the men in the first scene soon, and yes, the yearly research project is solely my invention (at the time of writing it, I was struggling with my research essay for Government, so it figures…) As for Aelwen Ellingham…well, I can't say much about her as I really don't know yet, either. Lol, a winged pony? That would be a hilarious pet for a supposed hair of the most feared Dark lord…crackles

Shadowface: Thank you for your continued support, and sorry it took me so long! Here is the update.

borne-shadow-childe: Haha, thank you for your lovely work as usual. loves

Night-Owl123: Thank you for reviewing and here is the update.


	14. Chapter 13: Jasper

**Choice-Chapter 13: Jasper**

_Beta'd by borneshadowchilde, thank you!_

Even before he was fully awake, Harry could tell it was late...sometime near noon at least. That thought jolted him instantly alert, although he didn't move so much as a muscle. It was one of the most basic rules: never give away the fact that you are conscious if you wake up to unfamiliar situations. And he could tell he was not in his dormitory; the fabric of the bed was rougher, for example, and the air smelled faintly of cleaning potion – the hospital wing!

Having assessed his environment, Harry finally opened his eyes cautiously; it was strange how the instincts he carried over from _that_ part of his childhood appeared to be much more alert now that he actually remembered all those years. Pretending to be asleep was one of those paranoid gestures he had been slipping since he had been taken under Sirius' wing. Bitterly he recognized that it was not a bad thing now that he was picking them up again; he would really need every one of them soon.

It was then he sensed the presence of another in the room, and he berated himself again; it would seem that he had really grown quite careless, and he shuddered to think how he'd never even noticed it before. _But no one would hurt me here; it is probably Madam Pomfrey anyway,_ a part of him protested defensively. Harry sighed; that was _exactly_ his problem. It was just that…no one here would hurt him. But he had to remember never to assume such a thing from now on; things would be different soon enough if he were really to step into the mess Voldemort had somehow gotten himself into again.

Harry could hear footsteps towards his bed, whoever was there apparently caught Harry's sigh. It was not Dumbledore, then, for the headmaster would definitely realize Harry was awake long before that. That thought made him relax a little; the others wouldn't be too hard to deal with. He turned – fully expecting Pomfrey or his Head of House – and was shocked to be facing a pale-faced Sirius Black. Surely it wasn't _that_ serious that it required –

"Do you have _any_ idea how scared I was? To be informed that you had run away in the middle of a class with- with all these happenings...only to be found unconscious in a hallway?"

Now Harry understood; they'd thought he was attacked! He almost laughed at the thought; surely they'd have recognized he was not petrified. And he obviously wasn't dead, either, so how could they think that he'd been... It then dawned on him that the others did not know what kind of monster was lurking in the Chamber; and they couldn't have realized that there were only two options for the victims of a basilisk. Now if he could only remember a bit more about the stories…

"Harry, are you alright? Do you want me to call Madam Pom –"

Harry looked up to find that Sirius' face inches away, clouded with worry. He felt a pang of guilt as he smiled weakly back – just as he was supposed to, "No, I'm okay. I-I'm sorry that you were worried; I didn't mean... it's just –" Harry inhaled deeply, "I dreamed of Remus."

"Oh..."

Harry winced, yet for a very different reason than what Sirius would think. He went on, letting his voice waver just the right amount, "And-and terrible things happened in the dream...I, well, I know it's stupid..." He buried his head in his hands, apparently struggling to pull himself together. When he raised his head again, he made sure Sirius saw an image of a broken little boy bravely calming himself, eyes bright with unshed tears, "I miss him, Sirius."

And that was just the right words.

Sirius instantly forgot all about Harry's rule breaking and instead was trying clumsily to console the supposedly crushed boy. Harry played along, heart heavy. Lying had never seemed so difficult before. Repeatedly he told himself that it was necessary: it was the quickest and surest way to get Sirius off his track, and it wasn't like he hurt the man or anything - okay, maybe a little – but he was shielding Sirius from the even uglier truth. 'Hey, you know what, godfather? I can't stop thinking about Voldemort, yeah, right, Voldemort.' He could just imagine the scene now. Then why did he feel so guilty? With some surprise he realized that he had been upset simply for the sake of lying and that he missed the time when he was able to be mostly honest with the man. _This will not do; I have let him in too close..._sitting on the bed with Sirius comforting him, Harry was strongly reminded of the day he had first woken up in Hogwarts. Things had been so simple then.

* * *

Harry stretched, the conversation he had with the headmaster had been most tiring. Dumbledore wasn't rumored the Dark Lord's most feared wizard for nothing. Harry himself was surprised when the old man bought the – in his opinion – rather shaky story. Harry had said that he had been most upset by Lupin's uprooting and hadn't been feeling his best for a while, and that he had passed out in the corridor so he didn't really have any idea as to what happened. The headmaster had looked grave then, and Harry almost feared that he suspected something. It was then he realized that Dumbledore was hoping to gain some insight into the recent attacks, and that Dumbledore didn't know.

The old man also fished out the bit about the lingering effects of the curse, though, and had had Harry looked over by the Medi-witch. But Harry really couldn't see any harm of his knowing that; besides, it did help him getting off his misconduct rather easily; he didn't even receive a detention for the little feat he pulled in Potions. And then the pain really was becoming some an annoyance; he wouldn't mind getting rid of it if he could. The dreams, though... Harry frowned, confused. Was that really...what Voldemort's childhood had been like? He was used to thinking of the other as something rather formidable and seeing that side of him made Harry uneasy. It just wasn't right; why was Voldemort doing this to him? Can't the man stick to being the invincible Dark Lord so that Harry could stop caring about him in peace?

Shaking his head, he grouped it as another thing to sort out later on in the mess that was his brain and tried to concentrate on the more important matters. Since it was likely that he wouldn't be going anywhere soon, Harry thought he might as well try to clear things up as well as he could. He knew he had thought things over, but he wasn't really in the best condition to do some critical thinking then.

All right, so he had been feeling strange – that could be the after effects of the curse. But he was fine in the summer, and he only started having the dreams and fits after the term started – which also seemed to coincide with Death Eater activities. Yes, Death Eaters, although his mind recoiled at the thought of them, he forced himself to focus on what he knew about those supposed followers of the Dark Lord.

He had seen Lucius Malfoy and a stranger in an alley, conspiring about something. And then he had met Malfoy's son on the train, and that boy had been acting strangely around Harry since then. _Most interesting..._ Draco had acted as if – Harry's eyes widened: _as if I were the one behind the attacks._ For a panicked moment Harry thought that the Malfoys had found out his connection with the Dark Lord after all, then he forced himself to calm down by taking a succession of deep breaths. _He suspects me, true...but it does not mean he suspects everything...he probably just_ – Harry narrowed his eyes; there was nothing to indicate his own involvement with the attacks. And, for all Malfoy knew, he was just another meek Ravenclaw...then _why_? He tried to recall all the encounters he had with the Slytherin, searching for every little detail.

_On the train...he didn't have to come into my compartment, yet he did, even though he was famous for his distain for other houses. He had given a rather lame excuse and left hurriedly. He was smirking...rather proudly when he left. It could be because of my apparent fear, but it might have been something more. But, I had checked it over for any curse or charm after he left...true my charm was not the most advanced, except I doubted anything **he** could cast would be overlooked. He did not leave anything as far as I was concerned. Then Ginny came in, we chatted, I handed her bag to her, and we left. Nothing unusual at all._

Harry fingered the ring on his hand thoughtfully, Ginny... The girl had been acting strangely all year, too! But with a shake of head he went on to dismiss her from his thoughts. He no longer had room for distressed little girl's silly problems. Besides it was impossible for her to have anything to do with it at all; her family was too much on the Light side, and herself too insignificant, to play a role in Death Eaters' schemes.

Harry didn't know what it was, a natural instinct, a shadowy feeling of doom and danger, perhaps. But he simply could not brush the Weasley girl aside as he had before. He dimly recalled their conversation and his fleeing suspicion that Ginny was being possessed. But what if, what if there _was_ something Malfoy did which was meant for him, but Ginny took instead? That would explain Ginny's abnormal memory losses and Malfoy's belief that Harry was the culprit. What could it be, though? And how did it relate to the Chamber or the Death Eaters' plan? As far as Harry knew, only a parselmouth could've opened it. The more he thought about it, the more serious this whole thing seemed. It definitely couldn't be just a schoolboy's prank, but could it be another of Voldemort's plan to regain power then? It hurt a little to think that the other man had thought it wise to keep him in the dark..._but you had given him plenty of reasons to do so._ Maybe he should just stay away and not foil the Dark Lord's plan again...

Harry tugged away the thought before he could get too off-track or his chest too tight. Biting his lips viciously, he ventured to follow his train of thoughts. This concerned him too, after all. So he had a right to know what was going on. And something told him that the well being of one Dark Lord might not be the only thing on the minds of the Death Eaters involved. Concentrating, he tried to recall the story of the Chamber of Secrets, it had been one of the bedtime stories he listened to when Voldemort actually had the time to sit with him. He was young then, probably around four or five, and the memory was foggy. It was ironic how it took him the better part of a few months to find out something he knew all along.

Okay, so it began with...Harry furrowed his brows in concentration, lapsing back in to the words Voldemort had spoken: a brilliant young student finding out about his noble heritage...the calls of his great ancestor, um... Ah, Mud-students were petrified, ancient measures carried out...and a girl killed? Harry frowned as he realized that that was it, and Voldemort never explained what happened after that. The attacks must have stopped, but what made the Dark-Lord-to-be relent (for Harry saw now as he should have done a long time ago: that student could be none other than Voldemort himself)? Dumbledore? That was possible; it could surely explain some of Voldemort's recent towards that man. Was he headmaster already then? It was just like him to stick his nose into everyone's business; he probably did know everything like people said…

Harry abruptly stopped that train of thought as he realized that he was getting off topic yet again; _focus on relevant information_. He decided he needed to find the Chamber, to check if everything was all right – and the prophecy… what was it about? Riddle had been most disturbed by it...Harry had his own suspicions, but he dared not to voice those thoughts even to himself. Yet he knew he had to see it..._relevant information only!_ Okay, so he needed to find the Chamber; that was the most pressing issue at hand. His childhood story had some vague descriptions of how to go into the Chamber, and Harry was sure he could figure it out once he got there. The tricky thing was to find the entrance in an enormous castle like Hogwarts. Harry was sure books would offer him no help there – not that he would be able to sneak off into the library under his current condition. Besides, he couldn't recall the Dark Lord mentioning the entrance's whereabouts. Wait…that time...Harry remembered how his younger self had asked Voldemort that exact question, and the man had seemed…uncomfortable and muttered about stupid ancestors... So it was somewhere he would be embarrassed to be, huh? Gryffindor common room? Dumbledore's quarters? A _Girl's_ bathroom? Harry cracked a laugh despite himself, not bloody likely! He decided that perhaps he _was_ a bit tired.

Taking it as a sign to give himself a break, he settled into his bed and pulled the sheets over his head, feeling more confused than ever. This was hopeless! There was no way he would be able to figure out things in time.

* * *

The next few days dragged by slowly. Harry was bored out of his mind with only classes to divert his attention, but he dared not to sneak away. Pomfrey and the headmaster had come to the conclusion that Harry should stay in the hospital wing until the winter holidays – which was quite near now, and then he could go home and rest. Which meant it left Harry preciously little chance to explore around the castle as he was trapped here, cloak-less, and no doubt under the teachers' watchful eyes. Three days into his confinement, Harry thought perhaps Dumbledore had suspected something after all. Only Hermione came to visit him, bringing him his homework everyday. But Harry wasn't hurt; he knew it was probably due to Dumbledore's measures that his other friends couldn't come. _And they are just another thing you need to give up soon_, he reminded himself. Although he desperately wanted to talk to Ginny, there was so much to know…

He had experienced a few more dreams and another fit of pain; Madam Pomfrey frowned most disapprovingly when all her pain-killing potions failed to work – not that the fit lasted quite long enough for her to try everything. Although Harry doubted she would have anything to help if it were indeed related to the schemes he knew was going on both in and outside of Hogwarts.

Thus he wasn't particularly reluctant when it came the time to leave for winter holidays, since being trapped in the hospital wing kind of defeated the purpose of staying in school. Being far from the Headmaster also meant another advantage: he would be free to practicing his wandless magic. Besides, spending time with Sirius would be much nicer than with the mother-hen-like Pomfrey and nosy headmaster. Hopefully he'd be allowed back into his dormitory once he returned; he really needed to find out what was going on with Ginny soon.

* * *

Currently Harry was meandering in the back garden of Black Manor, with Sirius called away yet again. It was another sign that things were happening; the aurors were busier than ever. Harry couldn't help but feel a little frustrated at his own inaction. However, as it was a week into the holidays, he had began to think that maybe leaving Hogwarts was a good idea; he had not experienced a single fit since, and even the dreams were getting less vivid and more scarce. Maybe things weren't so pressing after all, if he was getting better already. He wondered if this meant his strange condition was tied with the castle and if that had any significance.

It was then he sensed it. Well, perhaps "sense" is not the best word to describe it. Harry didn't particularly feel any intruder's presence, but there was an implacable feeling that told him he was being watched. He stopped in his track momentarily when he realized it, but forced himself to move on as if nothing was wrong. Common sense told him it was probably just a stray animal, but Harry was not so stupid as to move outside of the protective charms of the Manor – and no wild animal could have penetrated them. But the protection in the garden _was_ weaker, Harry remembered as he berated himself again for being so careless. With Sirius gone, the protection of the Manor was his only chance, and how could he have been so stupid as to leave the house? Yet he had not thought… Harry shook his head; he had to stop that way of thinking now if he wanted to survive.

He continued to stroll, moving a little nearer the Manor all the time subtly, his hand gripping his wand inside his cloak. He paused as if to look at a plant more closely and listened for any unusual sound or sudden movement – there was none.

Harry walked on, not changing his leisurely pace, thinking fast. It could not be one of the aurors or any teachers as they would have surely revealed themselves now, and there was no need for them to come in from the back garden. This was not good, whoever it was, was obviously powerful enough to slip into Black Manor's minor charms undetected. _Could it be…_ a pang of panic hit him as he realized that it might be the Death Eaters. No, he could not – _must not_ fall into their grip again! He had to find a way – to escape, to – Harry forced himself to calm; panicking would not help him now. It took all his will power to keep himself from running, which would only prompt the others into action. But he was striding faster all the same. His hyper-excited senses picked up every little sound, and to him it appear as if the Death Eaters were all around behind him, ready to attack –

Harry whirled around, unable to fight the suspense any longer, and a deserted garden greeted him, ever so innocent looking. He relaxed slightly, feeling more than a little stupid now. Perhaps it was just his imagination playing a trick on him; surely no one would – He was hit squarely in the chest by something small and sharp, and before he could even register the pain he was already feeling the paralysation spreading in his body. _That was low…_he thought foggily before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Harry was studying the interesting "box" when he heard the unlocking of the door. He had awakened to find this strange room about half an hour ago, and had not seen a soul since. It was a small room, barely furnished with a few chairs, a desk, and some other strange-looking devices. He could not sense any magic but for the locking and silencing spells around the walls and the door, yet there seemed to be an unknown power running things. The "box," for example, suddenly had moving pictures appear on its front side when Harry touched a button, and along with it came some of the most accurate mimicries of real human voices. After coming out behind the desk, which he had taken as a shelter when the shock first came, Harry suddenly realized what was wrong with the room as he stared at the funnily-dressed people move in the box: it was decidedly Muggle.

He relaxed a little when he realized that, Muggles are helplessly ignorant; it was unlikely that they'd have anything lethal in this room. And, more importantly, it meant that his captors were probably not Death Eaters. He didn't recall any alarm being triggered when he was attacked, either; and this finding just strengthened his suspicion that the other had used a Muggle method. However no Muggle could have been able to find the Manor, and the spells on the door were definitely magical. Harry pondered at the interesting combination.

And then he heard the door. Harry vehemently suppressed a flare of panic that threatened to rise: Before he knew of the other's intentions, he would have to play along while looking for any chance to escape. Therefore with some difficulty he placed himself in the chair and pretended to be engrossed by the little scene the "box" was playing. Secretly though, he counted every step the other took, and he could only hope that his heart did not pound so loudly that it echoed off the walls –

"A most intriguing device, don't you think? I think the Muggles call it the television," a jovial voice spoke not two feet away.

Summoning all his determination, Harry suppressed the urge to spring around. Instead, he turned causally, masking his panic: the sight of a man of average-height greeted him. He was quite pleasant looking and rather thin; he looked no more than thirty-five, but Harry knew better than to assume anything. Carefully combed sandy hair hung over his extremely pale face; and, Harry noted, just like Remus, he also had amber eyes. However, there could be no mistaking between the two. Unlike Remus, every posture of this man screamed alertness despite his apparent gaiety. And there was a fathomless darkness in his eyes, intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He was also dressed lavishly in black silk that Remus would never be able to afford in a lifetime.

"Hello, Harry," the man smiled, "Long time no see."

* * *

_A/N: If you are wondering who this man might be, look at the title. (hint hint) _

**Review Responses:**

Alternate Universe: Thank you for reviewing and being so understanding.

Megumi Muse: Ah that's high praised indeed (blushes), and here is the update!

Emily: I'm glad you like it, it's always nice to hear that people like your brain childe.

Crissy Potter: No need to be sorry, I'm just grateful of your constant encouragement. And I shall not keep you all in the confusion for too long.

Igonia: Thank you for being so understanding. Last chapter was crucial in the sense that there were two paths this story could take and how I write last chapter would determine that, I was quite torn between the two. Now that I finally made up my mind updates should be quicker. Here you'll see Harry's excuse, and he has another nasty shock about his memory in the next chapter.

Perin: I'm glad you liked it, here is the update.

Shadowed Rains: Thank you! Here is the update!

Chaos-Empersonified: Here is the update, hope you'll keep enjoy this story!  
Q: Who is "they" anyways?  
A: If you are referring to the end of the story, "they" refers to the teachers. Sorry for the confusion.

Amber: Thank you for reviewing. Oh Harry will meet Tom indeed, and here is the update!

Clodia: Hm… I really like Sirius, but I can't promise he will live though. Er, truthfully, I'm not sure myself yet, but I'll try not to in light of your plea.  
Q: Does the Order of the Phoenix still exist? Did Trelawney make the Prophecy? Does Dumbledore know?  
A: Yes, the Order still exists. But here the prophecy is a bit altered, as you'll see later.

GoddessMoonLady: I'm really sorry that it took me that long to update last time. And I'm being good and updating faster now.

Person: Here is the update! Thank you for reviewing.

Robin Asakura: Thank you! Yes the story started out as something I thought fun to write, and then I got more and more serious about it. I definitely need to re-write the early chapters sometime.

HoshiHikari: Here is the update, thank you for reviewing!

Dairygirl: Wow I'm flattered! Hope you continue to enjoy this story!

'stina: Thank you for reviewing. And sorry for the confusion, if you have any questions regarding the plot, feel free to ask me!

MajinBakaHentai: Thank you for reviewing. I know I've been messing with Harry's head for a while now. There is only one more nasty shock left for him. And you shall know all about the Elites in these few chapters.

Night-Owl123: Thank you for reviewing! And here is the chapter!

Shadowface: Here, I'm fast this time!


	15. Chapter 14: Counterfeit

_I'm really really sorry for such a long delay! I'm putting up the part of chapter 14 I've finished right now. A big thank you to all who had reviewed, it were your kind words that kept me going!_

**Choice - Chapter 14: Counterfeit (Part I)**

Harry felt breathless, for an exhilarating second, his heart leaped. And he had dared to hope that it was Voldemort. Yet even before the notion could develop fully into a rational thought, his common sense was back and he knew it couldn't be.

The man went on easily, as if not sensing Harry's shock at all, "I'm sorry for having to bring you here in the manner I did; but, you see, you do not remember me."

"Um…" Harry cleared his throat. "…but who are you?" he finally asked, feeling quite uneasy at the familiar tone the man took with him. Usually he would not have asked so stupid a question, but at present anything to divert his attention from the man's ever unnerving friendliness would do.

"Jasper Elphinstone at your service, your teacher and the Lord's ever faithful servant." The man bowed deeply, and somehow managing to pull it off as more elegant than melodramatic.

"What are you talking about? Are you a priest?" Harry widened his eyes innocently, letting his nervousness leaking through his voice. _Is Dumbledore behind this? This is just crazy! Is he really a Death Eater? And what does he mean he is "my teacher?"_

Jasper chuckled, "I am most impressed, but there is no need to pretend; I would never mean you any harm."

_Right._ Harry smiled shyly, "Oh I'm sorry, I'm just a bit nervous waking up confined in a room with a…er…stranger. Are you Sirius' friend?"

Jasper sighed, but he seemed amused, "You_ are_ going to keep playing until I show you some evidence of my loyalty, aren't you?" Before Harry could speak, though, he went on, "Will you hear my story? And I would also advise you not to activate that emergency charm you have in your pocket, it mixes badly with the wards I've set up here, I don't want you to feel nauseous."

Harry relaxed his hands and let the pin-shaped bauble slid back into his pocket. He supposed he shouldn't have expected anything less, but he must admit he was surprised that the other recognized it so easily. On all outward appearance, though, he continued batting his eyes at the man innocently, as if he had not heard the last part at all, "Look, I don't-"

Jasper waved his hand, "Let's just pretend that we've already had the I-don't-know-what-you-are-talking-about speech. You are held by force, and helplessly innocent. So now you are being forced to listen to my crackpot theory, no fault of yours at all, satisfactory?"

Harry made a noise.

Despite the fact the noise sounded suspiciously like something else altogether, Jasper seemed to have taken it as a consent. He sat down gracefully in front of Harry and stated matter-of-factly, "There is a memory charm on you."

"Mem- impossible!" Harry was truly caught off-guard this time. What was this man playing at? His memory problem had nothing to do with any charm… and how would that man know… He was either a very bad pretender with extremely good luck or he really knew something.

"As I said before, I'm one of your teachers, instructed by the Dark Lord to teach you in all that he deemed important," the older wizard went on, as if oblivious to Harry's outburst, "There, why do you think I can predict your moves so easily back in the garden and just a few moments before?

Voldemort had taught him, and kept him a secret…no Death Eater knew of his existence. Every spell he knew he learned from the Dark Lord himself or the books… Harry thought frantically. Then the magical clasp had him firmly in grip again, and he automatically replied, "But that's not important…"

"Ah, a most ingenious spell! I've never seen a memory charm more clever than that! How would its victims suspect anything if they always dismiss thoughts concerning the matter as trivial?"

Harry eyed the man carefully; he was not making sense at all. And then it hit him: he was standing before a man who had apparently kidnapped him and he just dismissed the identity of the other as unimportant! A memory charm, did he say? Then it must be of the cleverest kind. For Harry could feel no gaps in his memory, the charm must have a remarkable way of doing its job to accomplish that. "So you know what is wrong with me," he said carefully, not saying anything that would incriminate himself if this indeed turned out to be some insane ploy of Dumbledore's.

"Oh, yes, and I have the remedy as well - part of the remedy anyways."

"You can break the memory charm that you claimed to be on me?" There, he could claim childish curiosity later if this Jasper really were Dumbledore's man, after all, who wouldn't be curios about his own memory?

"Break it? No, I'm no longer a full-powered Elite - a small sacrifice I had to make. No matter though, I think I can at least make it possible for you to think over the things I have to say rationally, instead of dismissing anything upon hearing. That would make our conversation rather…difficult." He then chuckled as Harry stared at him wide-eyed.

As the man reached over, Harry, to his credit, did not stir. He stood still as Jasper murmured something and he felt a ring of magic he had never felt before loosen around his head. "Well?" mustering his courage, he urged the man to get on with his story.

The older wizard started again, "I am one of the Elites assigned to teach you all that you should know when Master first brought you back to the base, and later on responsible for your strategy lessons in particular."

Harry pondered it silently and decided the information the man could potentially offer was worth getting a bit more daring for, "Prove it."

Jasper seemed as if he had expected this all along, he went on to describe some of the lessons they had, the furniture of the rooms, and so forth. Harry was growing more and more astonished by the second and finally cried out just as Jasper said "…and you used to share a pack of Spanish Gold-"

"WHAT?" Harry had yelled then.

And Jasper had looked like a boy caught in the act of some mischief, "Oh dear, pray remember not to tell Master about that."

Harry pondered, trying to still his nerves. There was no mistake that this man was Voldemort's close servant then. Taking in a breath he asked the question he wanted the answer for above all, "Why weren't you at the Manor when, when the…other Death Eaters came?"

"The Manor?" Jasper had looked surprised.

"Riddle Manor? The base? Ring any bells?" Harry went on, what was this man playing at? Surely if he were a top Death Eater he would have known…

"Riddle Manor!" Jasper had exclaimed, looking scandalized, "Think about it; do you really believe Master would have chosen _that_ as his base?"

Harry bit back a biting resort as he realized Jasper was right. Riddle Manor would be quite obvious to those who knew who Voldemort had been…and he for a fact knew the Dark Lord hated everything about the Riddles. But, but - with a start he realized that it probably was one of the things the charm had done to him, making him think that such were the case. Yet…"why was _I_ there then?"

"That I have no idea," Jasper answered lightly, pulling over a chair and settling into it comfortably.

Harry's blood boiled. How could he dismiss that so lightly? Did he have any idea what he had to go through? With clenched teeth and a cold fury, he asked, "So you did not see fit to look for me until after all these years? Where were you the first few days? The first few weeks? My dear _teacher_?"

Jasper seemed unaffected by the venom in his voice, but he let go of his flippant air and fixed Harry with his now sober eyes. In a low voice he replied, "But we were trapped. Trapped in the base, not knowing what was going on, with only a few inkling to guess from, uncertain of Master's fate…" he put a hand over his eyes, "It was terrible times…and then, of course, some started to have ideas of their own."

Harry did not speak; uncomfortable to see the emotions in the other's eyes. His fury had certainly passed, but that didn't mean he trusted the man before him. And why would Voldemort's most important followers be trapped and Harry himself at the Riddle Manor if what Jasper said were indeed true? And how did he know of the memory charm, surely it must have been placed by Dumbledore or... Harry's blood ran cold as a thought hit him, with low voice he asked, "It was him, isn't it? Voldemort placed that charm to me…" Of course he knew it was stupid of him to expect the Dark Lord to confide in him completely, but he had always thought that he had the other's trust. Biting his lips, Harry tried to swallow down the bitter taste of betrayal: no rushing into conclusions this time, Voldemort must have had a reason.

"Of course," Jasper stared at him, "You were the one who asked the Lord to make no exception of you. It would have been the same with anyone who was not an Elite. It was Master's part of the bargain. No one was to know of us outside the base. Since you are always in the base, it did not really affect you. And then we all expected you to become the youngest Elite there ever was until… things interfered." At that the older man had looked at Harry strangely, a thinly veiled emotion in his eyes, "You were quite his little heir, you know…"

With a start Harry realized it was a mixture of envy and admiration that he saw in Jasper's eyes; and wryly he wondered how much Voldemort's faithful followers must have wanted his position. Voldemort's heir… It startled him to hear the phrase, as he had never thought himself as such, for he was sure the Dark Lord would not have willingly tolerated an heir. So even Jasper did not truly know what Harry was…Or was Harry the one who did not understand? He sighed, weary at all the revelations. With first a memory loss and then a memory charm, he no longer knew what to believe, or whether what he thought to be true was even real. What he wanted to do now more than ever was to take a nap and forget about it all. With a sign he focused back on the present and asked, "So what other things you have to say to me other than my past?"

Jasper's expression had sobered, too, "Not the best of news, I'm afraid. There is a plot against Master among the highest ranking Death Eaters."

"Indeed?" _Why wasn't he surprised? Doesn't Voldemort just have the best taste in choosing followers?_ "I assume they are of the Elites I can't remember?"

Jasper nodded, "The real plotters, yes. There are lower ranks involved, but I'm not sure if they really understand what they are doing." He paused momentarily as if to organize his thoughts, "Isidore, the leader of the Elite Circle, had always been an ambitious man…he ordered us to stay in the base with no outside connection at all after we first realized something was off. He had always used excuses and acted secretively. But recently his activities had grown more careless and frequent…"

"And he is why you are no longer an Elite," Harry guessed.

The older man laughed at that, "Quite true, except he, well, overestimated his power over me – which is quite typical of him, mind I add. By banishing me he gave me the power to disobey his orders of staying in the base, and apparently he did not weaken me enough for the memory charm to take effect on me. You could say he made my job a lot easier."

"I see…" Harry relaxed a bit despite himself at the other's jovial tone. So he was right, the Death Eaters were plotting something - it wasn't for Voldemort. Suddenly he jumped up. "You said there are lower ranks involved…does it include the Malfoys?" before Jasper could answer, he went on impatiently, "Yes, of course they are part of it…" Abruptly changing topic, he asked in one breath, "How long has it been since you took me from the Black Manor?"

"No more than five hours…"

"Five!" Harry paced about impatiently, running a hand over his hair, "It couldn't be too late yet; he could still be at work…you must bring me back! We'll talk later, but I mustn't let Sirius get suspicious. I know something was going on in Hogwarts, I must be able to go back unsuspected!"

_**TBC**_

* * *

_A/N: Again, I'm really sorry for the extremely long delay. I felt that it'd be best if I put the first part of the chapter up first, the rest will hopefully be up soon as well. (Review Responses will be coming with the rest of the chapter)_


	16. Author's Notes

Hi all,

**I'm sorry for not finishing what I started, but I'm afraid Choice will never be completed by me. I truly enjoyed the process of writing, and your feedback and support had really helped me grow. Looking back after all these time, though, I'm actually kind of embarrassed of my writing.**

However, after digging through old hard drives and back-up CD's, I was able to find my notes on the story. I thought I could give a gist of what I had planned on writing in case people are curious.

**Voldemort & Harry:**

There was a prophecy made by Slytherin about Riddle, his last heir. It stated that Riddle will meet someone who would be his equal, with two possible outcomes. That person could be his greatest ally and soul mate, or his greatest enemy and undoing.

Riddle had known this ever since he discovered the Chamber of Secrets (as shown in Harry's dream-memory), yet, refusing to admit that all was pre-determined, he purposely avoided reading about the name of that person.

Years later, he stumbled upon infant Harry, realized Harry was the one, and brought him back. It was probably a mixture of self-respect and deeply repressed longing for companionship that caused him to raise Harry and train him to his best abilities instead of killing or brain-washing the boy. He wanted Harry to grow to his maximum capacities so the boy would eventually be his equal, whether in the form of ally or enemy.

**Death Eaters & Elite:**

So the Elite is a group above the Death Eaters, and most DE's don't even know of the Elite. After Voldemort's fall, the leader of Elite (Isidore) started gathering power for himself and rallied the DE's led by Lucius. Their plan was to resurrect the teenager Tom Riddle from the diary, overpower and use him as the puppet leader, leaving Isidore in actual control.

Jasper discovered something was amiss, he escaped Isidore and approached Harry. Armed with knowledge provided by Jasper, Harry was able to figure out what was wrong with Ginny and find the Chamber. He disrupted Riddle's attempt to fully materialize, but even without Ginny's full life force, Riddle was materialized enough to escape with a portkey to the Malfoy manor. Harry felt at a loss but brought Ginny to the teachers. Lucius wanted to kidnap the student Riddle was possessing to complete his resurrection, and mistook Harry to be the one.

At the Malfoy Manor, however, Riddle saw Harry's ring and was shocked. Riddle then told everyone to leave with the excuse that he needed to be alone to complete the process. He asked about what truly happened to his present self and Harry's relation to himself. Voldemort, in the spirit/shadow form, meanwhile, was drawn to them as well because he and Riddle's souls are those of one piece and had the natural tendency to merge.

Harry promised Riddle that his present-self was still alive, and that he'd do everything in his power to bring Voldemort back. Yet self-preservation makes Riddle hesitant to take Harry's words for it and rely on others for his revival. But when Harry mentioned Isidore and Lucius' plan to control Riddle as a puppet; Riddle conceded the point and told Harry how to destroy the diary, he also unlocked Harry's memory charm. This was done in time to prevent Voldemort and Riddle from merging, so the Voldemort Harry knew of was preserved.

**Beyond this…**

This is what I had planned for the next few chapters, after this I only had a rough idea of where the fic was going, and even with the notes I think I've forgotten half of it.

Basically, at the camp, Remus meets his kind and the pack leader's human lover (who is actually an Elite betrayed by Isidore, she is kept there by a restraining charm and is on the verge of breaking it).

Sirius has his suspicions about Harry, but in the end still accepts and loves him even though their ideologies may differ. When Remus finds out, however, he has a more difficult time doing so despite his promise to Harry.

Jasper and Harry join forces with others to bring down Isidore and the Death Eaters. Harry's priority is to revive Voldemort; yet Jasper insists on defeating Isidore first. Harry has a suspicion that Jasper intends to use him the same way as what Isidore had planned to deal with diary Riddle, yet he has to rely on Jasper at the time. However, his link with Voldemort grows stronger with time, and Voldemort is able to help Harry learn the weaknesses of his former followers and balance them against each other. With a crucial victory over Isidore's force, Jasper and Harry regained control of the Base. There, Harry let Voldemort possess his body to complete the necessary ritual to revive the Dark Lord.


End file.
